But, seeing the flower that was there yesterday,
a tear forms just behind the soft peace of your shades...
The world's too lonely
for a message to slip
but between the dying rails of peace
you trip.
The petals that were blooming are just paper in your hand;
your eyes, which were clear in the night, are opaque as you stand...
It was too beautiful
for it to last...
These visions shimmer and fade out of
the glass.