My spirit opens like a sunflower in snow
i want some more of what you told me I could have,yet you never let it go.
my attic lair I kept to hide away from
peeping toms.
Paper whispers a secret now a blot on my side.
drawn as a lover but with no heart.

sigh

Fall carries sense of self to brain to work
and find the worth of a grainy sand
to the oceans touch.

still a charming writer did my muse
guess better?