Lightly Does It Fall...
Lightly Does It Fall...2 mins 174 2 mins 174
And here come thee, a descent soft as thistles in autumn air
Come thee down with a hand so delicate - am I terrifed I will do wrong.
'Twas not long when beheld I thy visage last; seems an eternity for me now dear.
So oft hath I longed, and yet, wistfully did thou turn me back - pleasure conceived not invisible a fugitive in - 'twas so for me then;
Ah! countless! countless art those hours spent I in me dreams with thee in my night sky, was my intense desperation not spurned, but not heeded to either. Am I not as was I not a poet to yearn for thee as such -
Strange how stays extant this burn in my heart still.
Have I that drop of water now - 'tis everywhere, and everywhere I look, but wander my eyes further, further, and a little further yonder.
These dews the soil drinks, quenched is its thirst forsooth.
These drops - a shower falling briskly and lightly in tandem, fall precariously from the brink of heaven.
Oh my confidence in the tempest! Oh my love in despair! Must I tell thee how on rocks both amorphous and fine shaped, carve thy water a tracery that my never did my hands knew how to weave on a golden sequin.
Thee dribble, with transparent an ink is that indelible on my skin. May I ask how thee do that?
Sit I by me window as reminisce I a synopsis of what I hath with thou - times both bitter on the two halves of a day, and memories sweet with the resentment all given away.
And there catches my eye, a bird that, startled as if by a squirrel's nest in the foliage, recedes flapping its wings that sprinkle those thistles again - and art they visible from a window too distant like scintillating bits of spark on the horizon drenched in a black hue.