The Song of the Morning and the Mask

In the morning

This madness

High breasted

And brief

She the composer

She the magician

Appearing in the morning

Vivid as dream

Dream of movement

Of sunlight, of grace

Green eyed and sudden

Her bright paper face

She stands white shouldered

Light through the window

She of the morning

Of temptation, of play

Remember this morning

Her cat quick tongue

The torn paper pieces

When we are done