Distracted Nature, idly discontent,
Now minded to undo as to regret,
Tracked down her own back catalogue’s extent,
Her pair of voids still in their fading set.
And as she wondered what she might have meant,
Despite occluded sight, her puzzling let
A watery ray fly from its wonderment:
An indecisive, though a worthy get.
A realisation to reproach the past -
An art to turn the easel, blur the line -
Now animates that accidental cast,
That flighting colour that pens in all mine.
When my thin prism breaks up Sidney’s black,
BELLA’s eyes alter, and then falter back.
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