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The Bluecolored Girl

Songs from a chair
He sleeps in her hair
A bluecolored waste
Distracting taste
A toneless song
A Twisted tongue
Providing her rest
Stealing his nest

The spirit is slipping
Her mind is tripping
Leading her out
She just wants to shout
Where is the dancer?
He will not answer
He wrinkles her slip
A glimse of a hip

The water is running
A voice is humming
The bluecolored girl
will be watching her curl
She will chance her tune
In an hour or two...soon.

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