The Ethereal

 The Ethereal
- I write this, to her...

I see the stranger strolling along the dusky street in
Pensive; her bare feet caressing the beaded frills
Of her couture ramped quietly on the raw pavement,
Led enticed as though by a magic wand in its flick,
Or by the paining strums of a guitar stringbroken;
The sulk in her grey eyes I can see well so veiled
The ring on her annualry, pearled and betrothed.
Eyes those sunk, engrossed in the perhaps moot
Heating up inside her- Could I, the unseen beholder
From all my ignorance void, wild and wide, so probe
It an unfaithful guilt over an undesired nuptial,
Or an unfulfilled dream over a non-dream?-
Cynthia smiles as my fancy tosses its thoughts,
While she on and on moves, where to unawares,
Wanes into the Abysmal, Unfathomable, Unseen,
And I slip back into my cold ole nothingness...