It's nectar oozing from our broken wings, And we, the young, feel broken more than most. This bittersweetness permeates all things, And nothing takes the life out of our host. If you, presbuteros, have made our brace, And bandaged broken wings from birth till now, We understand the
On metamorphic elements we sing Aware that youth and beauty are a phase To which the fearful and the broken cling With disregard for age and length of days. The power beauty holds both firms and sways. Resolve is like a poison to the mind When standing on full youth
No, I had No real love For such lightness And memory preserved in old tree trunks. They held no peace for someone such as I. Without passion They were just Sort of Dead. It was a case of of wand'ring in the head That lead to wand'
It isn't true--not like you think: The cold of winter is no thief And neither has her grip a calm Lest fears come rolling through her teeth. Afraid of what the summer brings Stands one who pulls the shutters back And watches snowfall sudden, grim; The glass is
Though winter may retain its chilly grasp And frost clings to the glass in morning air, The night wind makes the lovers hands to clasp And warmth is brought upon me unaware. Candles in the window flicker brightly Suggestive of romance for those within. Inside the air is thick with