Rondo Signal

Forms of months come to fill the mind

In a signal the rondo cannot find

It's just a dream the liquids have lined

As the notes all float around her

Queens have followed the dreariest dawn

To find a poem scattered on their lawn

In words by which the emotion is drawn

The howls of midnight royalty

Porcelain skin with stinging caresses

The voice the angel possesses

All in silver gowns and dresses

In a dance of the augurs

The flute stings with lost passion

In songs of loving fashion

And the figures have gone ashen

Frozen as statues