A nebulous hue of a solitary cigarette drifted low with her senile drink
A bottle left in the shade, aware with ale, sat beside the piano
Her peculiar eyes, sparkling like ghosts
scarcely human under the blue moonlight, watching over nothing
Breathlessly, a faintly voice murmured, “Shh!”
The Past?
Why the shadow of before, kissed through uncommunicable sound?
A reluctant glance pulled her face down.
An elderly distance separated her young mind,
crowded, sometimes a haunted loneliness followed
Anyone would drive the dark road away from her pale face,
a fragment lost forever, erased somewhere back in the dark night
The dim background of eternal blindness, under paintless days and powdery air
More swiftly would the change dissolve and form
like a moving picture, lavender colored, glowing a resemblance to disappointment
In the next hour something irreverently persistent fluttered
a sort of compulsion
a rosy colored sunset flickered
awed, she had seen her somewhere before
For a moment, a crescendo, making sound of laughter
melodious months in the summer, forgotten
There was music, voices, pitches, rhythm
a combination of having met Gilda Gray and a sharp cocktail
the canvas of colored opal and yellow dances, so long forgotten
The great past was married, entangled in some wild secrecy by the inexhaustible variety of life
Unreal, blazing with light, glints blinked into darkness.
There the whispering went,
she found her again.