Sylvia En Route to Kythera

I never much liked forsythia, never liked yellow, but liked the sounds: for     syth       i       a for Kythera for sight for sky for Sylvia. Forsythia made an okay divider between our place and hers. Sylvia used to trod through it to see us too often so we let all of it grow massive and dense hoping she’d go blind in it then hop aboard a bumblebee who’d follow his lovely great queen as she flew to her dream isle of Kythera.