strange skins

When women from far
away come calling
and tease men
with tales of adventure
and exotic lands,
in twittering tongues
from fantastic lands,
it is inevitable that they
leave home and
fly into morning colours
of purple and orange,
into slowly strummed
dirges for yesterday,
into sweet reveries
of childhood,
and fabulous dreams
of adulthood,
waiting
for the end of the endless
lines that their poems
were supposed to have.