And so, still yet in half formed dreams-
The sway of clouds and summer streams,
With the sunset's glory in the sky
Take shape and form in her clouded eyes.
They once filled her mind with pictures lost-
Magnolia whites and verdant moss,
And the azure blues of the winter rose
All now a whisper as the curtains closed...
For oh, but when that sickness spread
Leeched out of the world the greens and reds
and violets and all that had been sight's precious gift
Was she left with memories and now, only this:
The feel of the sun ripe on her face
As she imagines the lavender in its place
Upon her hair; wheat in her shaking hands,
Painting blinded dreams only she can comprehend.