In a garden of rosary pea I do lie, a gentle wind-
There to perish, I softly swirl- yearning release-
From undying grief brought by a season, mad in nature
-A cold cold that slain the snowy lilies, my only love
A parallel of roses once swirled, I deeply- too
That nurtured from earth where buried
-But roses, *****- loved the sun, the sun alone
And hast, say no whiff for my bottomless fill
Ah, then- when the sun, its angst has bore
Then its tongue over the roses bloom, lapped
And leave a burnt, a shriveled to, in shame
I came then again, hurrying to the -roses aid,
To bury, free from the suns – mortifications
Here, along this unrequited where daily wandered
Came my snowy lilies- neath some flowering almond
They - dawdled lonelily and shyly there,
That upon there look their thoughts were written
And beck, I softly sang and made them dance
And swirling, filled here bottomless with fragrance
-Four seasons slept and woke- but in love, a jiff
When with, in my watch and air, their ***** lie
Heard whispers, of colds- love to a jasmine
Whom when touched by- a cypress came
And of its love then to a dahlia that red pour-
And in their ***** where lie, I did feel
Echoes its ire that made the sun frost than a moon
And allowed under some aspen tree-’ its ire thrive
For not a fair flower bare a desire, dreading it
-Nurturing its foul and hatred for all that was loved
And all that was loved, it spats its venom-
And none was loved than my snowy lilies
And none was festered than my snowy lilies
-Now shredded, perished a death by me-
Than be frozen in colds embrace from reach
I, in a garden of rosary pea do lie, the gentle wind
There pleading, weary- to go where my lilies came
