White Narcissus

In the dusk, the city softens,
a woman blooms unnoticed,
in the soft fog, the city flowers,
opens doors into other worlds

Upon a grave of words she lies
in the falling night, on this soft
night in the fog, in the dusk
she flowers like a moon

Translucent, luminescent
softly on a bed of stone
unseen, unknown, unbound
she buds, she flowers, flies
sighs a shroud of leaves

Moonlight, starlight, streetlight
ghost, ghost in the dusk,
softer than a petal
in the mist, in the dark

Softer than a scent she rises
dreams, laments then hears
his words, so lonely in the
softening city, she falls
silent in the garden of stone.


(c) 2006 J.L Stanley

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