Lay still, and dream awhile, of orchids in moonlight
neath stars on a hill, taste the juice of elderberries,
fermenting as it spills, though not one thought alone
with a boy who knows no limits, and hands as cold
as stones, once tossed across the river with intent of
breaking bones, the dust crushed into powder then
stuffed into his nose, as he hands you all his misery
he claims to hold a rose, but your heart has known
wisdom in spite of growing old, you have learned
to keep soft petals from the cold, while in deep starlit
scenes, you imagine thriving forests alive in shades of
green, but remember long before this, when it had all
just been a dream