A mystery falls as my Lady passes, passes like a green mystery, rhythm on the grasses
Soft her mystery her face leaving
Her resemblance cast on earth’s own face, my goddess, the earth
Takes her appearance, is this place, a paper tree, twigs twining webbing to the centre
Bottle brush, limbs leading to the heart, gums, colour of her face, crowned pinecones forming
In the scrub, magpie warbling, voice remembered, voice calling as a dream, honey, calling most
Beautiful, rhythmic, dream.
As I approach home, I pluck a single flower, to say, one love,
One life, mystery, so perhaps the wind sees. The wind picks up as I near my street, as I re-enter
Grey concrete, blocks, fences, heaped, she returns with me, and like wind passing, or my walk, or
Her car or her face, her beauty passes but remains, like a dream, but beyond this realm,
As wind is plucked from the air, but never encapsulated, my love passed, mysteriously.
Blessed Graffiti Poesy 
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