the monarchs

[choux]

& if darling i dare to touch with
ever softly the blue mind of my

little brown eye (forgive me),
the subtle irony is this:

upon yours it songfully alighted
& whispered our hesitant duet;

as waltzing we crownedly sat,
vague monarchs on a driftwood throne.

Comments

[nonesistonopiu]

I can imagine you mastering the oboe someday