Supple as a wish, the tendrils of her song sprinkled the sky like a stained glass meteor shower. Astors and arabesques splashed in puddles of copper; and trills of blue and citrus made wanton love in E flat major, exploding into night a trail of nameless colors warbling in their wake. I met her at the library today. She laughed and I named the colors of her eyes. ----- Note: This is a recycled, improved version of a poem I posted a few years ago.
