Orange streaks in a sky filled with pitch,
Yellow pods bursting– enthused chrysanthemums
are weaving through bejewelled night.
Floating, falling on diamond-encrusted waters,
gleaming with dancing light,
that soon pirouttes into my soul,
and flutters as the wind passes by–
to float on emerald waters;
to gaze at young lovers;
to dive under bridges and nostalgy;
to sink contentedly into the oblivion of warm soft clay.