My lady is the moon upon my night;
The dark is far less dark around her eye...

This morning I was questioned about a golden cross...
Dangling from a silver laced chain loosely necked...

A sycamore tree, stands broad and alone upon a...
spring ochre leaves fall upon lush verdure...

Take all the light until i'm out and deep
That I may linger where you rest in me...

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

If I have ever lived to feel pure love;
No footprint of that love did leave in me...

She was never one for churches;
the incense smells, clanging bells...

I'm in between the festive year of new
and tied by thought within the others past...

(I)
No lovelier of cause has pen to write...

Shall I reveal how oft my thoughts are yours?
As plenty as the stars do maze the sky...

If ever empathy materialised
So it has within your walls...

When I return by thought to youthful days;
I sprightly swing upon those swings again...