Tales of Molly Dale’s Blue Eyes           

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Molly Dale….

Walks along quietly, upon a grassy trail towards the bluer moments, with no ends,

Coming upon trees so free, speaking wooden things… she thinks, that’s how…

How my words would make a difference, when nothing compares and anything could be,

Then in a second glance, warm winds blow leaves, surrounding her softly, only

Telling a beginning of some strange story…. somehow forming into shapes …

This must be art, of a sort… what can I derive, is there a meaning to me, to you?

Molly Dale…

Still walks with a story in mind, though her heart leads the way, not so strange…

I just think about and see the way there, oh and the blue, as if only she approaches,

Seems so far away, yet right along side, reflects the sky in Molly Dale’s Blue eyes…