The crunch of frost gave way beneath my feet
As the morning sun fought off the stubborn mist...

To breathe in woe and then bemoan the...
Can bring no kind of sympathy or peaceful rest...

When lilies and dahlias
thrived on my grief...

~~~~~
My muses are the furrowed fields...

...I am amputated from reality,
and pain-drenched wailings swim...

she would breath so softly
and her words would be...

~~~
As naked sprites, we danced around the glades...

my heart sunk to see
her best abstract art painted...

~~~
Look at the morning's far-flung dew...

Between your excessive use of vocabulary
and the frost that freezes my lips together...