"this poem is not about what is written, but what is not written..."
My smile brings shores of shadows in the sky
A smile unsure of happiness and bliss
I touch the trees and watch their branches cry
A tear itself leaves from my face amiss
As tears and leaves descend into abyss
I come descending from the grey above
To bring a quarter of my seasons love
A love compared to death, natures demise
And with my lips I kiss the things you love
Secretly keeping Summer's butterflies!