Calissa came back home again
and everything was where it was.
Just where she had wanted it.
Her fame and fortune up in jars,
love and romance neatly boxed
and random chance in candy bowls
in case of visitors from mars
who'd like to sit and have some things
explained by one who's known too much.
Who's taken part and come out whole.
Whose every move tomorrow brings,
and always with a tinge of hope
that lately seems more decorative
than serious. It's interesting
how little changes make you sane,
when you were once the moonlit night
- a flying ghost in tattered cloud.
A spirited and haunting sight,
now watched by you through windowpane
with wineglass full of shining light;
you'll stay up later than allowed
and turn into a rose-gold glow
in flight.
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