As your secrets bleach in the canopy of dawn
and all the marching hares are strung up
by toad stools
and the band plays dust and maple,
on the moon.

Your very own Virginia -
is now the hallmark of
your revery.
a distinct shade
of rapture...
You have your 4 quarts
of Sunshine
and a barrel of ash
and whimsy.
But we have our
separate stars
to conquer for no
Reason.