Since last September I’ve been trying to describe a momentous feeling.
I need a dialect of tact.
Like Alice,
I tried to believe before breakfast.
And,
Like Alice,
When they painted the roses,
Because white wasn’t right,
I knew.
Did you?
This is my hidden horizon.
I’d like to share the sunrise.
Let’s get out, or,
Go back.
I’m with Alice,
A retro chick:
Chic;
Exciting,
And fighting for a trend.
But trends change at the drop of a mad hat.
It’s never finished.
Dear Alice,
Cheshire has the edge.
He judges,
Grudges my every free thought.
Unseen by most,
Obscene when seen.
There was a happy ending for Alice.
But you try chasing a white rabbit.
