Does anybody know the way
back to the frangipani trees?
Their egg-yellow flower centers
& velvetpinkwhiteyellow petals
burn incense to the fairy-godmothers
of flowers and poetry
& lead me by the nose;
(convincing me nightly to leave the living room
in search of their fragrant memories
& subconscious moments).
Roses open here at day-ends
and breathe out their poemspells,
us with pleasure
& drawing out (at last)
little hideaway smiles
from our petrified dream faces.
Even the day-butterflies
fly at night here;
fluttering in my hair
and tickling the air around
my flickering eyes.
from 'Night-life' in I sleep, I dream
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Fiction is the lie that tells the truth ... (Neil Gaiman)