For she’s a smouldering flower
That won’t run out of steam
Undeserved, yet too late; she’s already been
Here, loving everything
Here, begging to begin
Again, her being, her exception
While holding tears, while hiding fears
Can we write our new chapter?
Here, on the same page we deciphered
Then we’ll risk it all just to peruse
Poems we’ll lay down on empty books