Just ladies turn circles,
Umbrellas open toward the sun. The
Sweet smell of
Thyme is on everyone’s lips.
Bashful men stand idling in their
Flamboyant boys running through,
Opening up the crowd.
Racing by, the girls start to shiver.
Enough has been done.
High in the air and find the sky a color of grey.
Embellished lights flash.
Someone wails from a distant,
Open doors slam shut,
Rotating the room. The lights go out,
Moving everyone into tears.