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...

beneath the brook,
the bass of the giants' voices...

Did Heaven really call to you
And were you really finished here...

~~~
She danced beneath the bluebell's shade...

wishing I had hugged
you as tightly in life as...

~~
My love is not as ripe as when we met...