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.
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