The recessional plays in B-flat. There is no shade for Savannas Sweetness, no place For her to stay, to rest. Cement elbows lean on the horizon, Her emerald face Gone to dust. The tropic rains fall As the recessional plays. Savannas song is crushed Between steel toes Tapping out an asphalt melody.
Winded leaves watch a butterfly.
The silence, quite beautiful, Draws the colors of it's innocence. Afraid of logic that is born In the breathing Of round worlds. A strand Of your dark hair falls out of place. It escapes my reach. Escaping round worlds.