O' how I miss and mourn for mother's voice
That swiftly passed like Autumn's southern breeze
And took from Spring one less an Angel choice
That left my heart amongst the fallen leaves.
Appears the blossom tips were seeped that pain
As petals shader dark as love in mine
It too resounds in all the bird's refrain
As tho' their sadly tones; has mine assign.
Ah soon will summer rays then pierce my mourn
And shine that glow to when I lived a child
For mother's love is where my summer's born
And out that love my own has since been styled.

O' mother, yes mama I miss you more!
Than all the seasons brought and past before.

If hearts knew sense then would the heart flow love
For prior to that streaming lease of joy
A sense will warn, as duty bounds behove;
Foretelling pain; that'll meet the heart's deploy.
And renders love reversal for a while
The broken down duration known by none,
Is here that sense would leave the heart to rile;
To chance the pain or curb where love had won.
Ah! Idle hearts are spawning grounds for hate
One taste of bile deters to love; from most
Then spite of sense would love rejoice to mate
And any lesser cause; a morbid host.

If heart's took sense, then still would lover's glow
For better than; what loveless hearts do know.

O' why am I that one without a nest?
I must love self enough to single 'lone,
I dare to not believe, for self-love's jest
It's likely Venus whom had left my throne.
A royal seat at sea with none in view
For deep the fairest swim, so knows the King
Whom fishes with no bait nor love *****
Without a depth of love to show or bring.
Could crown adorn a weaker, brittler core
Than outward form suggests of armored chest
Of thickened steel so made by love before.
I am that which had made a hermit best!

To all of whom I've blamed, and parted love
Forgiveness be, then I to self thereof.

Shall I reveal how oft my thoughts of yours?
As plenty as the stars do maze the sky
And each their shooting spec with their explores
And sparkle they; as lit my inner eye.
O' I too think of you; when skies are blue
They flutter with the birds of snowy white
Then as the feathers fall, as does for you;
Each plume affix with love of mine recite.
I wonder you; no more than waves can bring
No less than all the shells who whisper love,
But even more than petals of the Spring.
Give thoughts to voice, and you have heard your dove.

To count the granules of a sandy beach
Would number thoughts, much more than I could teach.

Removing jealous nerves from out my brain
You'll view the surge your seeking eye had made
And if so fluttered harmless, why disdain?
Deny these blackened patches; flirt arrayed
And hold no nose, alluring perfume's age
To bitter scents of envy, wreaking mine,
That seeped a clouded haze, our lover's stage.
To live such mist; I doused my lungs with wine
As then the words are slurred to least offend
For stupors dwell where love's received in mind
Not there I quarrel, there true love's on mend
But here, the tease has love completely blind.

If known the potent nerve behind your strays
Then grasped the luring swill; of drunken days.

Describe depression? Sleepless, nothing-ness.
Continuous night whilst yearning for day
To only find that day will offer less;
A state of halfway within a no-way.
To know that love for others dwell within
Yet hearted wings bare not that love to reach
For feathers burn beneath neurotic pain;
Alike a humid hell than summer beach.
Where scorched it dwells; to form a human stain.
A stain whose mainly thoughts are means to end;
For better be, a world that has no me
As love defines, but self has none to send
Not even for one's own, as love's not free.

Depression takes all worth and leaves one none
Incessant demons whisper; till they won.

If I had breath to give but one last word
Could love weight all my brimful heart's outpour?
Or need it sound; that ears have not yet heard
For love's familiar so; one needs not more.
Adore, would have I gasp, a vowel's gift
Tho' if my heart converts, that metric fails
For two has none to send, that deep; uplift.
Beloved, flows swiftly as tho' it sails;
As onto both the sides of love it wings,
Yet tense is past, and I'll be fervor still
So vast the feel, that in the death; love sings!
Then love let love be last the word of will.

Know then; love's word is short with many use
Tho' is the sound of hearts, and last diffuse.