When the clock strikes the midnight hour

And the flock of ravens sours the hiss

The winter's...  poor enough to falter

The ghosts... that reminisce!

***

It is somehow beautiful... to see

How easy... Every snowflake... flees... Away

To Screen on every branch and tree

To make us See... the reall things! This beauty...

***

When the fog comes to hover, for us to fool

And the mud is gone beneath the looded ice

I will stock myself with all the toured truth

To get to you (The Garden)... Wouldn't that be nice?

*****

But I can... wander... saunter... falter

the Ghosts... of Your Innocence!...

until I Find her, Feel her, See her...

The Garden... of my dreams...