For the celestial girl

Evenings are
the best times
for reflection  
    those hues fill the sky
and wander into our hearts,
twisting lazily
in the breeze as the
batons of cheerleaders      
legs splayed      skirts arising      

should not
every male flush      
why then do I see
a flush on that cheek
elsewhere      
the stroke of My palm      
that feeling of numbness,
after so many risings
and fallings        
  
Man builds and then
time erodes      
nothing is the same,
sifting sand dunes
eclipse the wonder of the moon,
Shall the sidereal motion
of celestials body,
turn the whirling one
 in His grave  
    Nay what graves        

ashes we will be
Percy said,
and to dust returned      
  sprinkled as so much fodder
over the weedy flowerbeds