Mary Alice,
you remain a mystery unseen...

You breathe
like a found piano...

I've had so little a glimpse of you.....
through glass morphings...

You write me a prelude-
a stroke of sailing hands...

You'd said you'd give anything
for the day to last one minute longer...

Half of me wishes
it could have softer skin...

Her incandescent hair
- like winter ivy...

How could my heart have been
so subtly lost...

Surrounding boxes
she never gets the chance...

She didn't know any better,
they'd all croak...

The room
and everyone's...

I once perceived you as a flurry of chormatic
scales, audibly falling onto the bridge of my lips...