Autumn breath softly whispers
of cold dark truths.
A lonely tree hides his ferns
to feed the roots.

Boiling cauldrons of mud form
to block my path.
Fermenting clouds leave me torn
between your wrath.

Splitting Venus chips last odes
to packs of wolves.
Deceased waters hold dead toads.
The world dissolves.

A mosaic of falling seeds
spins me sickly into a coma.
The only thing that saves, keeps
me from tumbling down - her aroma.

All the thoughts like ants have gone away,
they crawled through my ears, my mouth.
Oh, the mouth, the royal taste - just stay,
rave on my flesh, love well-wrought .

And there I lie - on the lips
that are not mine - neither his.
Rather die than lose those strips
of pretty scarfs I could kiss.