At the two ends of that same line
One apart one torn inside
Like a fear that stops its own breath
Two look upon what joys she gave
Inside an edge of glimpses of shadows
Three lovelorn wonders sheepishly seek
Another look of their muse, What muse?
Four women ignore those glares inbound
In faults and mercy he drinks away
Five days have gone by in her thoughts of sway
Maybe she too remembers him
Six weeks maybe Or is it too much
Glimpses of shades in colorless hues
Seven dusky damsels go around his rues
Some straps of light beckon her thought
Eight haters surround his hazy gaze
He remembers her hand in gloss grey light
Nine contours of silk, they danced those nights
Sleepless now with the knife that worked
Ten hours went by in her eyes he woke
A ballet maybe she felt with them
Eleven roof tops they jumped with her
In numbers he lost her grace of blue
Twelfth night came upon a martian dew
They danced
He swayed
She drank
He played
They slept
She cried
He stared
They smiled
She struck
He spoke
They awed
And fell
Thirteen wonders they explored
Together each made their own great mask
As strong as thread on a burning branch
The count was drowned in her slender arch
Pashmina was back like in their hands
The dreams were woven around her harp
His fingers caressed upon
What thought were left on the rug left back
Like sparkles and dreams
Like wonders and screams
Like silk and nectar
Like an up and below
Like us and them
Today they were gone
Too far away
From the door she looked
He had walked astray
The glimpses remain
In woven threads
Her mind and his
Still longed for theirs
Glimpses of The Lost