Hearing a melody, illicitly, begin to trill and seep,
sounds liquifying effervesce, conduct a symphony of sleep.
A music so enrapturing, that to the eyes, it can be seen,
melting from a lavender into a green serene.
Continuing so dulcetly, silvered with its mystery,
hues swirling through and syrupy, majestically enthralling me,
wondering, lethargically, if this is real or fantasy?
While faintly misting upon me, its orchestral debris.
Dripping motifs, sporadically, in my hair and lips intone,
pulsing deeper saturations, as a thick crescendo’s grown.
Lying there, hypnotically, inside its afterglow,
it really does not matter to me; I’d rather never know.