teal

As you glance toward a memories' hour,

you hear some weezery whispers coming

from the sun and stars. They seem to be

the gift of a charlatan with the audience

in a surplus of nothingness, well wrapped

in the ingenuity of a teal hue that breathes

and shines between the teeth of the moon.

Took just a jiff to catch you in joy's attire

as you glanced toward a memories' hour.