Rose-red lullabies are sounding across

the horizon

as this ship is going down,

down,

down into another world…a world of

blankets, and of sunset picnics.

Into the world I wish I had…

-

A lone singer stands on the pier with

nothing but his wineglass

and fedora in hand.

A single hand is visible in the print

of the sun and the moon.

He smiles fixedly, never knowing

that his expression can’t change.

-

Rose-red lullabies are sounding now

when the key is turned.

-

A dancer, poised on the beach in an

ever unfinished pirouette, her scarlet

skirt blowing in only one direction,

is looking into the water in which

she might be reflected.

The sand glistens in the would-be

sun, but the waning rays are,

in fact, dwindling.

-

The painted glass surface of

her little world grows dull.

Uninteresting.

Too out of reach.

-

A child’s glamour is

dimmed by desecration, and,

truly, loss of hope is the dimmest

of all.