Tender blades of infant grass mingle at her toes.
Her lips like dew stained morning flowers
her laughter carried by the wind
herald fleeting fancy.
She passed me like every other,
and my wandering eyes stopped down
and followed in a gaze.
Feet follow eyes.
Where eyes look away the feet shuffle in
and step onto a nameless trail.
She is but beauty, and I know nothing else.
She remains silent in my mind.
Where fancy turns the heart is absent.
Only fancy lives for her.
For some other crouches in the corner
of my eye, and lies in my heart’s chamber.
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