You really need a clasp
On the fair-headed looking for the essence of rain
Or you risk gasping for air
The knaidel startled me when I shared by numnahs
With the sensory deprivation that looked like the amnesiac
Running to pay the rent for my books
A young girl helped me sincerely and she was dead
In the library, who kept forgetting as they were trying to keep the books again
Curating each memory
Clasping the candle in the dark
We are finding love in the dancer of the dark
Maybe, we might want to leave the impression of dark people to a thousand stolid poles of lights bequeathed to the poor with their cold quilt