My Fair Lady, what do you see?
You retain a visionary’s air,
a nonchalant wisdom
as you gaze upon the spectacle that is Life.
And of what do you whisper when the night falls,
and the Mourning Dove coos her lullabies?
Where do you hide the dreams that liven your waking hours
and dare you to reach for the stars?
From whence do your thoughts flow, when the shadows stalk?
If you could but drop me a hint,
I could join your Kingdom and take my place,
a fledgling Fair Lady
whose dreams would mingle
with your own.