The Chill And Lemony Sun The soft rains of April heaven's tear must be a pear That pastel green which holds nuances of lovely rue That odd quivering quintessence of a pear It’s late in the fall The leaves descend auburn hairs falling from autumn's nodding...
More
The Chill And Lemony Sun The soft rains of April heaven's tear must be a pear That pastel green which holds nuances of lovely rue That odd quivering quintessence of a pear It’s late in the fall The leaves descend auburn hairs falling from autumn's nodding just a melancholy bliss A child blows desire from a downy dandelion gone to seed The wind whistles sadly across the grey sky like half an eggshell cupped in divine hands And all the others all the others… The fields and fields of spun silver Endless ghostly full of sorrow With a thousand forsaken wishes floating on the wind There are combs of ice in the dark river Icicles, long fingers, lacement and glissades of creaminess I watched the combs of ice come floating from the banks They are like lilies launched like pure white cups sweet sailing vessels As innocent, they give themselves like gifts
Less
