From a saturated vision
Of gleaming paleness of sight
With shifting of glance of mere surprise
A shape of molten liquid, weak yet strong
Crossing the bridge of unparallel twigs
A myth of fog, of descent and high
Of slight shadow with hands so shy
The beat of small feet, the beat of raw heat
Prying eyes of known fright
Of stillness a mirage of perfection
Swaying rivers so distant a call
A touch of finger, with melting desire
An embrace of passion alive beneath
A blurring face of distortion revealed
Crossing the bridge of unparallel twigs
Of futile vision and burning dream.
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