the giggle-spring journey of her returning
was a shadow-spilled whispercue
curled around a ghostballoon
she drizzles us still in cloudsparks,
leaves dawn openjarred
to breathe dark-dance breeze;
lull trees to shimmermelt green.
we scar slow, echo
twist of rose, skip
The One With All The Words for Quadrille 32 over at dVerse. Come play!