By Passing Fancy
Date: 3 January 2001
It can never be...
Wondering lost
in frosted downs
weak from hunger
yet finding no ground
to break this my fast.
Distant to my tortured mind
this my body is felt to cry
dimly felt to break at last
I fall to bed with snow.
All covering as it does
both of leaves and all of grass
all to soon I as well
with this white blanket
of eternal cold.
For what I must have
can not be found
only given from you to I
this of us, we both do know,
cannot be...
So as i die in this hungered state
taste once more your name
upon these cold blue lips
then in happiness
shall i from this wearied place
depart to know no tomorrow.
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