the whispers
are failing
the long summer grass
as legions are marched
to the ground –

sung to the dragons
as twilight to burn
webs were just reaching beyond
this fluid embrace
of long nights alone
 and blankets pulled over
 a snowy white
shroud –

ribboned cocoon
of silken burlesque
is matched
by a cape of the very
same shade
and spun into dreams
never knew we were here
and kept as a memory
of winter
and lace

. . .