I do not think I can ever hold the day, and let your being in me ever spend…

my father had nightmares, my mom made good friends…

how wished for is that moment of conceit…

… I come to strands of story …

… why does the almond chance to bloom …

So seldom is the day content to leave …

… if I could give a flower of song unto an unshorn heart …

… I wish that I could pray and ask sweet things …

… no moment’s touch, or glance fulfilled …