Gazing at what could have been A lethal doze of her fertile pose What will all these inklings mean If I reveal how deep the spiral go Crystal fecund fancies flew Emerged through blood-red veils Sky-blue yet dead grey - the winds blew Forced my lofty head to lean Is this lass a fevered rose? Is she not sinless and pristine? Is it not always gold what glows? She hides her hideousness in evergreens But be cautious her blade is keen When held down by an angel pose Her talons can't be foreseen When the nightmare initiates from a rose And this hale nostalgia grows...
