We meet again in
the last hour of dawn
deathbed creaking;
ravens croaking;
I said:
not yet, not yet!
my candle flickers -
not yet, not yet!
free your words-
You said:
it’s the eleventh hour;
your pen will bleed-
tear and anger;
your melody will be-
forgotten in the rain;
your scent will linger-
six feet under;
your wisdom will be-
trapped in the quicksand-
of your dear Sisyphus;
your beauty will be-
fed to scavenging worms;

you could have been
a phenomenal maiden.

it’s the eleventh hour
deathbed creaking;
ravens croaking;
too late, too late.