I might as well confess
I too have memory
and must put an end to all my adventures
You seemed strangely concerned
and gave out a cry
The moon was curious and
with its hands upon my shoulders
tried to draw me close
but there’s no use talking to it
as I’ve ceased to be young
and mischief makes me tired

I lie in bed making up stories
about all the girls who marry
wandering up and down
long azure hallways illuminated

You looked at me in amazement
back at the house
and I suppose
you wanted to dance beside me
solitary as a goldfish
twisting and loosed out of hell

I felt the demure chill
of a wisteria gazing, watchful
and a little disconcerted
but I’m very fond of you
all the same