walking alone on the riverbank on a moonlit evening

 
 
 
 
too long the  
suffering  
 
too many the
tears
 
too great the
grief
 
too few the
kindness
 
come, ye great  
winds  
 
gather the dreams  
of Pasithea
 
the soft poems  
of the newly  
dead
 
apples in a bowl  
on the table
 
the first hungry  
kiss
 
some sublime  
September  
afternoon  
 
all these fair  
things
 
all these fair  
things  
 
departed
 
the fluttering  
of sable  
wings
 
beneath a
pandemic  
moon







04/22/11:24/est