To many after thoughts had my resolution, found a beauty compel to evenings northern star, desolate the sunflowers bath to a last light. Riding our elevator to the fourteenth floor came the extracting weekend market perfume, and at best the filtered air, a baleful setting sun, stole away her gesturing body, silhouetted sounds to a compelling wait the September audience fool. On the latching late southerly, the returning sails nestled tightly with laying wraps from gliding riders, on set to star, with folding sun, a hand-gliders recline to city lights. Jazz on loan filled a roomful of desolation, aliment and soft a studious, sound aligned endlessly the stars, and night lights, flickering heart, to a reread novel. The reclining light fled with, September and twisting latches of a borrowed lemon, to fast the end, my compelling look, what a slight wonder to have jazz falling, with misplaced coriander.