Belinda

I want to be set free, says my lover on high, a sense of blue conceit, between her hands and shore, she aurveys the sky, her cigarettes by the door, on a funnel gazing spree, any horizon seems bright, thinks she's a celebrity, her power is always more, kind but sheds no light, she names it mystery rope, it stands no scrutiny, always shows she's right, a short step to eternity, but what's underscored, is a racing certainty, harmony stands restored, when fires burn willingly.