I hear the wind gustsMoan through charcoal coral brush.The stove warms my feet.
Joy of new green grass,Rain-washed roots and sun-drenched stalks — Fairyland for frogs
wanted to change you, but in the process, i changed.i miss the old me.
Seek between dark linesof endless night, where Life hidesperpetual light.
Dismal morning mists,destitute silvers, await guilded, sunlit smiles.