It seems that the unborn
whom passed before birth...

It is lonely over here
in a corner dim, with the bar a-brim...

Dormant buds
await fluxing snow...

My darling Marie utters to me
“my love I will marry thee...

Past week, on the night of Tiw
an uneasy candlelight wavered...

If I warbled alike a dove
and fluted - tunes of love...

From one inked outpour
to unvarnished whiteness...

Swayin', collidin' cornstalks
begins an orchestral opera...

Through regular paths I tread,
regularity soothes the ageing beat...

Azure noon skies over Swan Valley,
a pearly patched luster of cloud...

Oh dearest mother
if only time entwined and did reverse...

Rubies are on my mind
as falling leaves dress ochre meadows and strips...