The twilight is long fingers and black hair.
What was I saying? An Egyptian king Once touched long fingers, which are not anything.
And I have seen long fingers that would stare With fiery eyes, and then the eyes would crawl Deftly across the counterpane and fall Soundless, with a wink of mild despair.
Punctilious abyss, the yawn of space Come once a day to suffocate the sight.
There's precious little to say between day and dark, Perhaps a few words on the implacable will Of time sailing like a magic barque Or something as fine for the amenities.
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