for every time
another was
a mirror
yet become
ageless as the skin
along my thigh
purple blooms
a marigold
as somehow I recall
nights beyond
the catching
of a window
to my soul

fleeting
was for memorizing
webs
and sheets alike
listen now
to hear
my ancient cry
was soft
as echoes left me
knew before
my time
songs I never
learned to sing
aloud

. . .