What dreams may come
to the midday mind;
What desires are buried
behind the eyes
of envy?
Tender
slender stems
of delicate lilies
white and frilly
feminine hems
of giggling skirts
and batting eye-
lashes.
Why does it hurt?
Graceful is pretty
swans sitting
on pristine ponds
of purity.
Soft petals flitter,
tremble, quiver
in an ivory sigh;
I’m just a bitter
weed you pass by.
