outside the citadel of patchwork glass where the masses go
and time ticks by without the aid of an hourglass,
on the patch of green green growing grass-
sits the girl with sour apple eyes, listening to love songs all sad and slow
breathing out sweet sorrow sighs in the evening after-glow
as she leans against the rough-barked giant- tall and lonely in the square with her head tilted to the sky
she calls the clouds their ancient names and listens to their echoing winding whispers in reply-
calling her back to windy freedom ways
she is at peace, handing out half-moon smiles like benedictions to the faithful, all smooth and quiet in the darkening light.
calling out from the center of the city, she is a silent murmur in your ear inviting you to stay awhile-
the sight of her is like soothing hands running down the edges of your soul, smoothing away your cares the way your mother did when you were young
and you lean against the tall and lonely giant in the square with sad love songs singing in your ears hand in hand with the girl with sour apple eyes and the half-moon smile
and as you learn how to talk to clouds, you wish you had an hourglass so you could stop time from flowing without you noticing
but you don’t.
so you just hold her hand tighter.