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Wither, weary eyes
  Come seek me here at high noon
    Blind, in the sunlight.
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   Silver light sings now
  Shadowing the night so deep;
Called, I answer.
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Down where mischief keeps
  Its uncertain ***** laughter
    I build my garden.
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     ***** and stick, the thorns
  Growing lovely now, the leaves
Rarer still, the rose.
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Icy crystals of frost
  Lacing the window like lattice
    Fading in the sun.
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   Whisper, quiet touch;
  Your skin, soft and supple;
My world, beside me.
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Wheezing, hacking hurt
  That torments me like the plague
    Springs sweet gift to me.

— The End —