The silver tips of arrows and whips
this cross that I must bear
the golden anchor of sweet lips
and
I will be with her.

Sapphires on a zephyr
diamonds in the breeze
rubies that I cling to
and she's
oasis that I drink from
a palm to shelter me,
an abbey in the moonlight
to which
I have the key.

And the kaleidoscope
if hope is one
turns on
another
wheel.

I steal a moment
take a look
feed a memory
to the book
of days.