Halt

A symphony of noon dew song

A cavernous inspiration

A tulled skirt, a picfair in display

Swirling motion in amorphous zeal

Born and broken in a Cavendish heart

I lost my numbers in a while

Play follios on rent

I pictured a sumptuous scorn

Mere wordplay of vivid illusions

Time’s lost unbidden voice

She strummed through

A magical labyrinth of airy valve

Before it came a burning halt

As it happens in a symphony song.