Oh sweet meadow yearnings for this wintery nights of another lolling tongues
Through which these words sans the devils may they be a rapture panacea of the warmest sun
For this singed may and this frosted november now hear this my beating heart it longs for the smile
Of another grave soul in a need of a hug but never too warm to reach out for some hands
And so for this too swearing of a tipsy old son of the earth may it be that all these be another dread dream
For this empirical knowledge of a falsified heartstring through now and then I shall travel on thee not
From the bottom of null wells and this water of such life I shall string the bows of the moon for another hunt
To reap the suns and tears of a lost child who lives still inside me, begging to be free so that he could die, for one more day...
THE SIGN OF SHAIRO
KL
2012
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