The seasons
Beautiful, involved,
Lovely like elevators
And the floors of thought
Who thought the party
Was always where
The lamps were on.
Glasses arrange themselves
In the green light.
A familiar spirit
Changes into a hush
On the hills in the evening.
When the room darkens,
And we can see no farther
Then the face in the window
See the centuries pass
People as in the theater
Waltz out from their seats
As lights turn on
And new ones waltz in.
No comments:
Post a Comment