S.B.T. 393

peter pan

if you tell me with words, 

a string of pearls 

a veil of  ether moss, 

your lips move  

but i can not see your eyes. 

so modest! 

and so devout. 

your words may be precious, 

scented, light as saffron powder 

lustrous and green like malachite 

the ease found in rhythm 

renders rock weightless 

somehow by magic

i can't see my shadow,  

a disguise that turns permanent

specially curved lenses
all matters of invention 

and creatures of adventure
seeking meeting and seeing  

who the other one is,
dear little tinkerbell