I wonder if an unusual flock of white crowned...
Were there that day, that fateful day...

It appears, at least to me
That child-bearers who have passed from this world...

His heart and her heart
they pulse ruby rain...

O' how I miss and mourn for mother's voice
That swiftly passed like Autumn's southern breeze...

I wish I had a boat
For yonder past the bay, on a clear azure painted...

Shall I endure her vilest winter frost
and splay archangels in the idle snow...

The aching is the from residue
Of inebriation creeping through...

Often on the river embankment I observe the same...
Gliding, floating solitarily whilst treading and...

Oh ruler of all worlds
I plead and pray for another...

The penned sadness of a poetess
as evident in the threads...

Tactility is nearly lost; exploring this wall
this plain white wall where hangers once pierced...

Am I alike a yoyo?
if so - the axle is my heart...