There is a girl from the Sun,
Of substance and wit,
Who, I'd like to know better,

And love.


She ankles the grieving
Dark knights of the soul.
She deepens belief

In Aboves.


She nerves me with giftings,
And words, 'that's so sweet'
But it's fruitless, it's no-go,

It's lack.


So I, thumb-twiddler patient,
Sail out round complacents,
I write of her, and dream,

As I tack.