the
affairs of our lovers
We need rain
The white lilacs are in bloom
yet have no scent
The uncut grass
feels unrooted to the yard
and ready to yield to the wind
and vanish into that unknown
My own mood thirsts
for sadness and
swelling hope
and memory from far mountains
to undammed rivers
of poems and
the affairs of our lovers.
We need rain
The white lilacs are in bloom
yet have no scent
The uncut grass
feels unrooted to the yard
and ready to yield to the wind
and vanish into that unknown
My own mood thirsts
for sadness and
swelling hope
and memory from far mountains
to undammed rivers
of poems and
the affairs of our lovers.
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