Karina

She sees the creep of moon, regular as the five and dime, lilac night coming soon, fish on Friday beaches, the kids who drink wine, girls with yellow pleats, men want women as boons, to enlighten their lives, someone with her bloom, and sense of ease, slaps hands that wander behind, smiling summer feasts, but the goal, the ball, she won't even mind, if she leaves this fall, and laughs in the gloom, that sometimes chimes, with her own Brigadoon, written high in the sky.