The Knot

What moves with the sleeves raised to greet the secret eyes
Lips and nails to fend them off
Who belongs there?
Have they raised a red olive tree? We can’t think nothing leaves
… and then we said magenta
He wasn’t listening
It is you, the romantic paper doll
…in paper cups
A little curiosity, some awe,
Black and white blasts of colour
Are no longer silhouettes
To life. An Ambiance.
Also add fine photographs haphazardlyThe urge to get it all
Baby, it’s cold, in days as well
Ask any sexy and enduring collection of luxury stuffed in shoe boxes
The flower girl, your very own, starts the moment
Could you wish the romantic recapture that retreats in abiding pleasureSlow down, but for a moment—I’m breathing in…I’m breathing out—
Let the ocean be scrumptious cocoa—to enter and for the whimsical,
Beautiful without a fragrance, a promise: recapture that
Shade as your sand disappears.