Haven’t I watered tears with tears? What’s here… that still endears. What are your big ideas? Now our divine path umbra’s… And pales in its pulses, Like a frigid - winter rose.
If I’m not listening to music Or writing... I’d like ‘complete silence’ Like a phantom on the wind... Like a woodland, flower, sleeping. I’d never want to bloom...
Hold him in your heart: A poppy seed shaker… A risk taker… One - you’ll ride at a morning’s canter. Till; you’re sure to be hearing, Mozart. Hold him to your breast:
