Soft-splintered at the agitation of its growth,
Fallen–mere hardness now–across
The barrenness comes:
Oh, the winter of death.
(My dear, always be green grass joyful,
Sunshine miracles, crystalline blue;
Darling, love like a rose shall kiss
It better . . . )
Undone. (Oh, life is but
A dream.) Ended
As your brothers and sisters sway.
Copyright 2012 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.