As when a numbing illness or hard times past do part,
Could it possibly be that a terrified body and mind,
Does envelop in warm thoughts to repose a childhood rhyme?
Will every leaf in the forest, every stone on a path then release,
an unheard lyric to accompany melancholies departing spirit?
Does her prompt arrival with ***** wings and crusty eyes,
In poor days of ill health, low spirits and mournful times,
then bode well for her later departure with joyful cries?
A shy creature then am I, trembling softly from the dusk,
To view calamities past, through melancholies truthful eyes.