The bone needle ground looks on, its hands tied. The jacaranda wailed as it spayed that purple carpet—textured with part of its heartbeat The bone needle keeps vigil over what remains As the carpet frays, the shears—spring-kissed wind—rush in to fulfil the final act. Estrangement a scorching camouflage is softened by liberty, impatient, yet certain-winged A dream sated The pieces sing, pirouetting in midair; Only for this moment is noir forgotten for flare.