Till thee are.
Till thee be.
Covered in the light, Josephine.

High the tides he brings, oh yesterseve.
And pains so true,
Yielding all familial antiquities.

Yet, still, the glimmer remains.
On a Christmas Day,
The choirs echo on sunlight rays.

....

A blossom from within.

Since thee are.
Since thee be.
Covered in the light, Josephine.