Pressed golden leaves and rouge colored buds
Inside my little diary...

Letter to Sir Gregory
Have all but love; have none but love...

At last, be known, the spell lies here
The ground of a thousand shattered dreams...

Fresh-picked lilies hang on top--
Of linens pale as winter snow...

A Canary perched on broken mirrors,
Are but reminders of rotting hearts...

Revolutionaries march with spirits high
Humming tunes of glory...

One strike, one blow
One cascading hand...

Ribbons of misty shadows pour on the empty streets
Angels coated in black fly over the silence of the...

I walk alone everyday
Through rubble alleys...

Whispering tenderly
I held her under the Choir...

What Dilly-Dally love
Brings me here...

Like a river
Or kisses in the wind...