Pondering Promenade

She bought her silence at the market stall, 

unwrapped it while she walked; 

plugged it in her headphones 

while she gazed headlong above: 

To stars eternal sleeping, far away, but not enough 

for telescopes to miss their spark, just too large 

against the dark. 

Onwards and forwards, on the pondering promenade, 

hands hidden in her pockets, fidgeting on 

smooth papers, drawings, constellations and starships 

all of which will hold her higher up to heaven 

and farther then--- 

She climbs over the fence, old and decrepit, to quiet 

blackness and open ocean, witnessing inky potion 

laving the land where the water greets; 

and sees the stars in a different sea--- 

She stands still, sounds softly returning, 

hearing the echoes of eddies eating 

at the shore and distant city murmuring; 

she looks up-sways- and turns, 

back to the lazy market, to buy 

herself mute music.