Under the Orchard, white, and Satin-silk -

Under the Orchard, white, and Satin-silk -
Your sleeves whispering, whimpering to Me -
Quickly down the Road, walking past your
Broken-glass window -
Whooshing, I saw your ankles pass -
Into your window, under the quilt, our carbuncle joy,
Blurring with Dew, and the Grass:
Shaded green, Nymphs pass, tunes, swelling rose-buds.
Whoosh - Our octave: one, two, three -
The golden cathedral, wicked and ruined -
Crickety-creaking into your vespertinal Gaze.
Actaeon lonesome and cruel, love sick,
Through the sea-foam, watched on -
Sharpened, and thudding, in the Autumn Night.
Ours, soft and crisp, dank and scummy,
Flowing, discarded, frightened,
Washing up, down the rue de Canal.

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

Under the Orchard, white, and Satin-silk -
Your sleeves whispering, whimpering to Me -
Quickly down the Road, walking past your
Broken-glass window -

Expert story-telling here. Your choice of images to create the narrative was extraordinarily well done.

[Mr.Boffin]

Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it :)