Good Times

Good times
Fear of questions
Beckoned with a smile
Scents of warm hugs
Circle vivid memories
a mask is revealed
color plays softly
tips of tongues bite at the outspoken
safely receding into a winding meadow

tellings of supernatural qualities
fooled by the misleadings of simple magic
crowded streets
crowded minds
forsaken from first love
burdened at first thought

time tells a tale
of beauty's fortune
sun glares effortlessly
blinding all inhabitants
to be wiped from it's dwelling

A game, this is
for death is passed without thought
a stockpile of woven thread
safely residing on used pillowcases
the moon rests softly on heartbeats
waiting for the hint of a soul
souls don't arrive when expected
it is merely by chance
and in this case:luck
in which a beautiful
self-conscious spirit
graces the room with her residue
of magical hymns
and refreshing voices

eyes awaken
back stiff
sleeping in the meadow
waiting, thinking
for the right moment
birds sound their song
and you dash -
dash to imaginary places.