This shoe is so small
it can't hold her full spirit...

It is an Italian elm,
branches sweeping...

Luck most often is
the result of correcting...

You dance, leading me rhythmically,
in a slow waltz at three/four time...

Low
ceiling...

There are some people
for whom loneliness is their...

False Spring came this day
with all its attendant hopes...

If I could give you anything
it would be moments...

Can't sit still in these stupid desks
cramped in classes kept closeted...

I am the winterman
no part of this desolation is worse...

There are so many things
you will stumble over...

The boughs droop low;
even the tree is overcome with sadness...