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...
© Кейтлин А. Todos los derechos reservados