we talk of miracles. of undelivered letters written years ago. of many things that are dear to me. the mighty happenings. i can only be your canvas. you were golden light reflected all around us. but i'm exhausted. i'm exhausted. there's never been a cloud in the sky for you. without this what will i do?
and i know. soon, you'll go. and i'll pass you, earth or ash.
i asked to hear of your garden. to take each of my limbs and dream of happen. thought i can go again, till i can talk and bend and flower anew.