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