Nothing will trump loss
The call to which we have no power
but spineless, godless creatures
Begging for warmth,
Clinging to the begone memory-days
of love youth, spring ephemeral
cherry dew drops on the eve of sorrow,
Sickness-clamor tricks of sight
Dipping on the brow of age;
Less wise of time to spoken merits
leaves that drift on yellowed starlight
it is all the power I lack,
but a soft-bellied pleader to wandering
that I forgot to love you properly
Ugly Child Blog 