The grove lit with lilies
Their spirit strong this time of year
When we all beg for the great plucking
Yellow dawn takes us home and my lover lulls to the side
Bound to the strange and afternoons spent near the yard
The unique way to discuss death without mentioning it at
all
The cascade of the tides, yes
As we leave only a trace of your legends to sneak into the
pearly night
But I will see
Be it even if I the sole harbinger of left glares
The lonely serpent, lost touch
Another reason to leave
The fresh pond’s weight just out of reach
Its darkness sprouting from the ground
Wild horses lead us back
Sweet beauty in choice, the poignancy of letting all you
want to carry stay where it must
I speak upon the misplaced flower as I would the warmth
that drags me elsewhere
Boys left in the street, dogs and their fences, the golden
tooth of youth
All will hope yellow to be yellow again
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