What do I do these days? As I sway in a romantic way I hear the yellow flower turn I listen to the woods of the swamps slightly forlorn The staircase points downward, I am lost When the cars wheel by the pondering eyed strangers The shores of oceans don't have legs A soul hollow as the kind blue flower and fruit Blossoms in the summer-youth which rots the skin to the shin, losing it's rind
It's a surprise to see In your ashen coil under a sycamore tree Where you have lost your lonely virility Where is your heart these days, my child? Lost in the vigil of the votive offerings of sunflowers Till the next time We will see as the tepid wind swells and boils The effervescent water coolly blows into my eyes As I sway in the straits of hasty affairs filmed and tinted in romantic lies, my faithful violet
I miss the faith of some of my readers. They loved me with a wholesome love. It was faithful and torrid at times. But, never uncouth and indecent. I regret dating someone on this platform.