White Narcissus
In the dusk, the city softens,
a woman blooms unnoticed,
in the soft fog, the city flowers,
opens doors to 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 in 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 and hears
his words, lonely in the
softening city, she falls
upon a garden of stone.
(c) 2006 J.L Stanley
