She walked by me trailing whisps of clouds The fringes of her dress damp with sunlight She had birds feet holding her hair away from her face. Fragile wings hung from her ears Their fluttering gives her headaches every now and then She carries a weather forecast in a bag which hangs from her shoulder She misplaces it a lot, to our misfortune. She has a lover. All the dreamy ones do these days. Treats her mean but that keeps her keen I guess He stuffs his pipes with the things which help shape humans dreams. Sometimes he relents and smokes cigarettes instead Exhaling while admiring her countenance The smoke entwines with her dress till you can't tell where one ends and one starts. And we silly humans always look upon it as a beautous thing of art.
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