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A rendezvous
with the finest chunk
of emerald wood and
an exercising of a tightly coiled
copper plated nickel vocal
was the only logic required to betray
the truth of an inevitability and
a torturous Shakespearian speak
she was prone to break into
elucidated by “intentional” spills from
the two percent juices of her kiwi.

She had a magic I could turn off to;
(and often did)

oh I do miss her “to be or not” (sometimes)

She liked to focus on the roses
and the disturbed symmetry
of a careless draw
(but only when it was dark)
They acted as a protector,
(perhaps her gaoler)
so I suppose it was only fair that
she gave them her undivided attention.

Tracing contours:
Usually starting
somewhere just above knee height;
more often than not
climbing her way to the top
but rarely managing to tally.
Easily distracted
by a changing form or colour.

So what’s the weather like outside?
I ask myself


http://www.mirrormist.com/mirrormist.poetry.htm

Oh good stuff, thanks

She liked to focus on the roses
and the disturbed symmetry
of a careless draw
(but only when it was dark)
They acted as a protector,
(perhaps her gaoler)
so I suppose it was only fair that
she gave them her undivided attention

It all works beautifully mirrormist but I but I particularly like this verse above. It says so much, so concise.
"The disturbed symmetry of a careless draw" great image/line !

Mat.