Like a shadow birthed
From dawn-light's approach.
I hide between the pink and red
Of pollution's grandeur.
And listen to the morning birds sing.
Ambiance to my lips stretching
Grand as Dali's face.
What is a muse?
When she hides sunlight
In blonde temptation.
Falsifying complication
To a pucker
And plump.
Along the river
Lilacs bloom,
But what value does a miracle have
That happens ever year?
I still stutter language
Like a drunk's footsteps.
Asking:
