crocidog

Under the branches of a orange tree I awaited the return of an unrequited love, sipping the dew of his heart. The blossoms fell one by one till I was left naked and barren like the tree. An invisible hand plucked each one, each orange of my desire, each twig stripped of it's fruit. Winter brushed the land with an icy touch, all the leaves are gone, all the fruit all the blossoms. And I, lost in a private, solemn world await the return of someone that will never come.

At your office, in the corner Boxed into a tiny, uncomfortable cubicle She is waiting Shy, modest, mild mannered. Sometimes her glasses fall down the bridge of her nose slightly embarrassed, she quickly pushes them back into place. Never says a word. You wouldn't know this, when she gets home off come the gold rimmed glasses off with the collared shirt off with the nylons and skirt. She lets her hair down Slowly walking to the closet, fingering this nights outfit. There is enough time. Backstage, she adjusts her makeup flamboyant red lipstick wild eyeshadow blush hair boosted up with curls the works The audience calls