You, who observed that good lady
During sunsets of late summer's height...

I, have led, over ten thousandths of young but...
Across barren outskirts of winter nations, ever...

T'is the mildest whisper whistled upon my wake.
Warmer than the wasteful heat of mid-day...

Your love is a mystery.
A secret which riddled...

We are breathing the same scent of french
lilacs against the current of clashing winds...

Standing closely now, only the words
waiting to be unearthed separates them...

I know of our affinity as encompassing nothing.
It hangs on separate air...

Learning that this agitation may be
a product of our minds' guesswork...

If I'd dream a dream,
Would be one under clear curtains of white...

How so swiftly you barge o' friendly one.
Your phony smile sparks of cordiality...

Oh, enthusiastically beating heart!
While you're all hype and fidgety...

There she walks again like no other,
through the breeze, slow and swift...