(Come) Back, back, back
She beckons-
softly at first,
Something is missing-
volume.
(With) A tint of spilt light,
with a whisper of consonance
striking a surface-
She has moved out
from behind
the clouded periwinkle glass.
A lady is demure,
all chiffon and lace,
privacy knits her crochet brow
in her taciturn phase,
observing us too late and long...
(Where) She moved windows-
(knowing we would never peek there)
She'd had enough-
leaving us
in the dark
(Again) To feel our way
Back, back, back
where night shadows lie
(cheating the sun,
and stealing the superfluous
beams and streams in arrays).
She will give it all back-
Remember (when)
She's had her way
(With) keeping you
in midnight wake.
Painting By Helen Allingham (1848 - 1926) (The Bridgeman Art Library, Object 283763) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
