Long ago,
a woman
laid
in her beloved's heart
some of her
goods.
A bit of
her mellow-word
forest,or kisses
and sun-made apples,
the canopy of life.
In the meanwhile,
she cadged
one after the other
the clothes of a
princess,
of a ballerina
then.
Some air clothes
thereafter.
But it happened
later,
her beloved
estranged,
and left
behind
futile things,
her sun-made apples,
and endless
lace-linen
kisses.
That woman
had to put on
a mendicant's coat
not to let anyone
notice
how carefully
she clusters
old and bootless
trinkets.