You Who Stood Upon A Balcony

30 and rising, the last jacaranda blossoms
clinging to summer the way you were,
with a tenacity and a vigour
kept secret from your own eyes.

guarding your shiraz head as you skipped
under those magicked-up trees
those falling flowers have powers of their own
to panic or confuse, or to set at ease.

alone but surrounded by two friends
obliviousness and amor sui
which of these two pulls more towards happiness
a constant joyous mystery.

a silent echo in you, in the shadowshine
music of the heart excavated while in transit
seven voices, each in their own part
when the sun herself was still dozy and idle

a balcony of lime, shale, and clay
with words of desperate thinkers and all tongues
carved into its stones, in a facsimile of forever
you became princess of this place.

you will return to it.
and I will return to you.

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