It was one of those mystical evenings
where it seemed the whispers of the dawn were speaking
Visions of greatness
Dance in the purple rain.
The pungent smells realize
raindrops which meld
upon glistening pavements
will find their way upon skin
Breathing in the voice
The touching of fragments.
An ordained frock
upon the shoulders
gives way to beyond the ordinary
Or does it?!
Tinkling of the ivories
bent in the wind
seeking what appears
behind the curtains
Turns into a smile
An embellished hand
begins to hear the song
to belong
to dance in the purple rain.
