How will you go?
In a daze?
High upon their silent energy?
I see a thin child.
A marvelous creature who
composes important memories.
She waits away some despair,
In all ways spun,
a beautiful faithful breath instrument.
Marry me.
Can I call nature sweet?
Not many have love.
March 6, 2008, with Niki Notarile, 56, 57, 58
The Muse Poems:
