Quite the starfish flesh
tonight, beside the lamp.
New sides of the moon,
according the fisherman
new weather will bring sadness.
Glazes of time, the light tickles
the merry side of my soul.
And then you know, the dirge
From mourning windows flows,
I left a rose over the grass.
The hours I grew in my lap and
the rope's length divides
the shadows from my sight.
So don't you feel the brick again?
Leaf fall in the water of despair.