Sunlight on ceiling, creating Halos.
Slowly turning, into lines of shadows.
Window of memories, ajar again.
Opening images, stored in my brain.
Remembering the lady, I met somewhere. Dazzling merry eyes, lips saying prayer.
Mystic beauty, etched by wrinkles.
Old raspy voice, no more musical.
Lost her again, in the cerebral meadow.
Back to ceiling and lines of shadows.