Yolanda

She laughs and hums a tune, says it’s stupid to lie, it’s just what we do, we stroll around the garden, she gives another sigh, grandkids are late home, it's like a whispered ooh, she stumbles in plain sight, drink fills the afternoon, what makes the same hollow, a broken cry, she thinks of those below, says don’t ask for truth, it's like the night, someone's always ruined, she’s not one for show, not since 1965, says they rolled that blow, gently sipping Vermouth, voices come from on high men tell all they knew, she really did fly.