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fawned within your eyes

at last: your secrets --

those memories untold;

that distant happiness



untouched by barrenness

without need

of fallopian tubes, eyesight

and agile feet



you wait ... subtle

the Visitor approaching;

frail the frame of fables

reconstructing bygone dreams



what happened

to the Sleeping Beauty?

who lost the glass slipper?

does Cinderella remember me?



your glance turned inwards,

but just before I leave

you look up,

saying:



I love you, Myra



your voice jingling

joy

your eyes sparkling

stars

of recognition



and I carry you with me

into the locomotory of life

your fragrance

a fleeting presence



on the palms of my hands



myra

02.03.2005