A black and white face
with slant little gaze
tugs at the heartstrings
in unusual ways
and croons a new ballad
of soft purple days
tinted with twilighted rays that'll lace
my prayers with the incense of grace.
My lines that'll lilt
with such juvenile rhymes
on which neither muse
nor cupid now shines
are fit but for irrelevant sighs.
So gather your tickets and fly;
I who just deal in sarcastic words
will neither lose sleep or cry.
