In time we find
though never lost
in trimmed gardens
The search alone
we sidle walls
flash furtive glance
In green maze
morning haze drops
The same each time
blurred roundabout
swirl dizzy spires
Endless breathlessness
tiring quicker
than yesternight
Out of rush of flame
comes desire
Sparkling cold
dense stars are lit
the air so thick
Like water we
drown
© Chagall 2014
