The woman who stared,
not with an inch but a glare
Her eyes flying round
Yet her mouth without one single promise of sound
When she stared, it seemed to me
that this woman, without feeling or calamity
Was in fact trapped, in eyes that gazed into eternal galore
I mean, what could one do?
When one cannot construe, not you nor me
could ever unravel this woman's mystery
So with the day, I carried on
still engulfed with the fever of our lost black swan
I see no might, yet ease no pain
whilst her cold, inclemency gaze remains sustained
A glance here, a twinkle there
How much ignorance will our bullet bear?
I walk away, dismay and doubt
Yet within those marbles,
she climbs the starry eyed stout
One flicker of her eyelash,
An our dear woman's cast away

Which day will it be, I wonder, when she decides to stay?