Faint scent
Of
Jasmine, light.
Faint scent of
Light, loud
Dust. Wrist is tool, wool
And a steaming of
Herb. It's
A matter of trust, how
I make rise
From the chair
My hair, my lips, my
Old
Discomfort a
Blended cushion
Of pin and
Comfort. You'll
Begin your weaving
I'll pretend
Leaves aren't
Losing green, I'll
Smile, be gone
A while
A short mile
Returned...
Of
Jasmine, light.
Faint scent of
Light, loud
Dust. Wrist is tool, wool
And a steaming of
Herb. It's
A matter of trust, how
I make rise
From the chair
My hair, my lips, my
Old
Discomfort a
Blended cushion
Of pin and
Comfort. You'll
Begin your weaving
I'll pretend
Leaves aren't
Losing green, I'll
Smile, be gone
A while
A short mile
Returned...