Elegant again
Woe is my fashion
As I sit idly and in solitude
And as the sun pours
A summer promised
Over and over me,
Then the sudden cold
As if plunged into abysmal flumes
Of a cloud that shuts her away
One day she wakes with laughter
The next day is without mirth
But in slumber she speaks
And will return,
Through elegant peepers
Of an elegant life
Shadow will surely wait
For a time less obstinate.