'Twas in a playground in a school upon a bended...
Adorned with autumn leaves and roots that wring...

The nightfall smears a biding shade and plume
as Nyx complexed the clear diurnal day...

If soared beside a pearly cradled rose
therein a rattling joy; o' stillborn child...

Go find for me in all of botany;
The rarest rose amidst the sweetest mire...

This grief is told of yonder meadows green
how far - as they appear from crater deep...

When I compare my frame to other men:
I weep, and mirror's glass weeps for me too...

It does appear to me that souls' deceased;
Whom died by cancer's deadly spread of mole...

(I)
My love would frown, if could, about this stone...

Dear lady I do know, that beauty's cursed;
To draw unwanted eyes to bask that fair...

Those dreams of mine;
Shape shift and twine...

In homage - splicer of Aladdin's reel;
a bow, beneath the centered piece so drawn...

When all my substance needs not breath of air
And eyes devolve into the depths of night...