Behold upon the sea-foam colored floor,
As sheafs of paper leaf down from above
An inky shadow races through the door
To rain upon the paper licks of love.
She leaps and frolicks in among the drift
Of crisp white envelopes and colored trash;
For her, these piles, and unintended gift
From me, that she might tear, may rip and slash.
Even if I wished to end her play,
Her mournful visage in my mind would move
Me, ‘til my feelings – hard and rigid – sway,
And I refrain from trying to reprove.