Contrails have etched powder blue skies , the April countryside enhanced with silver tones .. The collapse of reason coupled with an early morning frost , tender seedlings beg the mercy of the rising Sun , bound for its midday zenith ..  Such is the fragility of love just as the daffodils of Spring , a luster of Silver Maples dancing in the wind , clockwork precision of the Grist mill on Cotton Indian Creek . A brisk walk along the cool , riparian shore , bound for warmth , recalculation and the many miracles of familiar woodlands , across quiet bottom land . Alone* .

I've changed since then.
I've grown up, to learn from my mistakes.
I can't bare to keep it from you.
That pain I can not take.

The drugs and pleasure were not what I needed,
I moved on to think I had succeeded.
But I had pain inside, because I was not whole.
I did not speak the truth and words were not spoken.

Though it may have seemed fine, it wasn't.
I could not hide it anymore.
No lie or secret was worth the pain I felt.
I had to let you know.

I'm sorry I lied.
I'm sorry I failed.
But I know I can be forgiven.
For its what gods intentions would have felt.

753

My Soul—accused me—And I quailed—
As Tongue of Diamond had reviled
All else accused me—and I smiled—
My Soul—that Morning—was My friend—

Her favor—is the best Disdain
Toward Artifice of Time—or Men—
But Her Disdain—’twere lighter bear
A finger of Enamelled Fire—