Flourishing and frivolous wisps
Dance in the spotlight
Over your right shoulder.
I wonder where the dust's going,
Where it's already been?
Whether it's just because you're getting older?
Sparkling and seducing eyes,
Telling their very own story.
To where I lock my gaze,
I think things like these
Should sometimes last forever,
I guess that would be a lost,
Stagnanted,
Epiphanerial haze.