You were standing in the light of a festive roundabout
Your eyes were saturated by its neon stars
Blue Red Green
Blue Red Yellow
Blue Red Mauve
A ghost philosopher congratulated you on your beauty
But you did not hear him as your mind was elsewhere
Ghost Philosophers do not pass you very often during the winter months
I drew your attention to his kind words
You smiled and kissed him on his darkened cheek
And gave him a small selection of your neon stars