The things they swept beneath their beds
were not dust, no, they weren't some kind...

I.
You are an escaped soul...

You may be calm White Lily
Do not fret...

Love will protect its own, but maybe
I am not yet its daughter. For I dedicate...

Cherry blossoms
engrave their fragrance...

I wanted to cry, summon the emotions to cascade
down my cheeks and sink into the dry soil...

Circumstance
metamorphosizes...

I thought I was his friend
the kind who doesn't know...

You first came across her
at the Amtrak station in Waterloo...

Does love arrive with a storm
or fly onto me with silent grace...

Nor are we slaves of popularity,
prisoners of style and peer pressure...

I'm near the horizon-
staggering, dizzy...