Cupola Thoughts…

a Muse, he lived

in·time

closer than skin

in·form

light years across

in·spires

of missed

–when he leaves—

and every

ah-hah

moment vanishes…

echoing

near audibly

away…

draining l’eau from mirage,

and eyes from

~seas~

No waxing moon to shimmer

reflection in des’pond

–nor ponder–

no direction in de’sign

–nor diction–

nor lyre’s melody

in write ear,

~nor fan· to·see unfolding~

and speech is just left.

Left as speech.

simply spoken

with·out·landed wonder,

functional phrase

or

whispered whimsy,

matter-of-fact.

©Karen Robiscoe