Above New York's Rockville

A voice. A torrent cry entitled goodbye A morning fades its bright light somewhere Underneath a virginal rain. This day shrills Drawing afar it seems to halt all that is lust or dirt. Youth’s love is nothing left Nothing to bury out into the sea of doubt Flying above the icy touch once that was flame Dying now like frozen tears creating Up a clustered window in the Rockville. In pain I know my experience could not be Told or minded up with silly lyric then it might remain; The guest in which appeared to witness A last plum-blossom breast that hope I deplore Always the autumn before you naked as a vulnerable capillary.