Swiftly, gamely, mademoiselle Made a wish to hear the notes Floating from my old wood flute Revealingly. 5 Poignant practice in the park Between our picnic and the flocks Achieved some partial good when I stopped And stared at mademoiselle 'til dark. 10 This vain breath that I extend To where my antique wood flute ends By spastic clasp of crippled fingers In incapable mimesis Can't catch quite your natural and clear 15 Childish laughter that charms the air. Mallarme
From the collection "Nobody Poems"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.