If you don't love me, then, do I love me?
For I within that love do view me whole...

As she and I do lay 'neath summer's noon
I quarrel with the sun: who loves her more...

I wonder if you know I love you so;
As vast that you can dream, as real as touch...

As I do list the highlights left of me
In twilight of my life through memoirs' reel...

O' sandy shells, o' sandy shells, I know;
Why pearly armors 'neath the sand conceal...

O' how I miss and mourn for mother's voice
That swiftly passed like Autumn's southern breeze...

If I had breath to give but one last word
Could love weight all my brimful heart's outpour...

I'm in between the festive year of new
and tied by thought within the others past...

Depression is; a desert well of sand
no water drops are left to tear the pain...

The cyclic seasons give a cause in soul
to view the mortal realm in seasons gone...

Confession, me? Could I repent my time
And weary be, my pupils then to see...

When mind's own memoirs wither down to bone
then whom shall know my love in distant years...