I’m blue; I hope to see you soon,
Come forth to me my tomb.
Outward triangular shapes cocoon.
Before the light of time I conclude.
Not always but fright is something of comfort.
Even when I reject my profound lover.
Life spent wishing upon the four-leaf clover.
A nation of sheep at rest, in slumber.
Awaiting the long ligated blunder.
Higher than the peak of Everest mountain.
Love runs deep over and under the green fountain.
Tomorrow is noon and I’ll come home soon.
Tomorrow is noon and I’ll come home to meet you before bloom.