The funny lady with eyeglasses
and spyglasses who sadly
left the world too soon
finds it so curious that
I looked for you,
my Mr. Magoo,
and found you
here in time.

I can see
recipe
of revelry too
for two who knew
occular orbit that's at
odds with purple moon
and doesn't dibbly dabbly
as at such rapid speed it passes.

I get along with her much better
than others in lockdown
for defiance, spite,
who ruled the night, 
choose still to fight
God and from beyond,
turn on you
like a dime.

Outliers,
pretenders,
sick, sinister bond—
still somewhere: light
beneath the fight
they will rise to heights
without regular knockdown,
shiny apples, poisoned-pen letter.

What of you and all the living ones,
betrayers, betrayed, let down?
Were they read their rights
about the blight
and shorter sight
that cast a shadow
on what's true
on me too?

And she who
if you knew
what was sacrificed
to lend my love,
angels above
and send help I could...
I understood completely.
It meant nothing to know everything.

Still, in the morning the birds will sing.
Tonight I will dream of you.
I cannot discern
what's left to learn,
what's meant to burn,
be repaired or spliced,
what you'll do
or the view

From there
or here
on the dark side
day trip of a has-been
purple moon.

See you soon...
Until we meet again,
these three abide:
Faith, Hope,
this Love.