such simplicity

these plain, stone walls
peeling stucco
and the light bulb gleams
shaded light trails on tiny
stained glass pieces in
imitation of opulence
and the silence filled with
evening singing birds as the sky
subsides to navy
and there are no bells, no processions,
velvet cushions, no sugared
plums, no massaged limbs,
here all is plain and cheap veneer
our time in imitation
all that's gone
years past live
like rosewood and silver bowls
but silence in the head the same,
beckoning dream
leads me on, an Alexander
to my land within

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