FOR THE ONE...

TO THE ARCTIC WINTER, I CIPHER,
KNOCK LATE, SHE IS BASKING.
DARE NOT WAYWARD SNOW
TO BURY THE PATH SHE IS TREADING.
NO ADO THAT HER FACE
I HAVE NOT SEEN;
BUT DEEP INTO HER SOUL I THINK,
I HAVE PRETTY MUCH BEEN.
FIRST HER NAME, THEN SHE CAME
THE ORANGE DAYS AGAIN.
YELLOW SUNSET, TINKER BELLS
AND THE CRYSTAL RAIN.
IVY BUDS, CRISP STRAW,
SOMBRE STUDS, MUSIC IN SIGHS.
DEAREST --------, MY LITTLE FAIRY
IS NOT IT TIME TO RISE?
MOM EARTH IS DRESSED, AND SO AM I
LOOK, IN SKIN BROWN!
LEAVES AND TWIGS, O’ NATURAL ONE
FOR YOU THE CROWN.
LEAVE THIS WORLD,
THIS MORTAL BIRTH;
COME WITH ME
TO THE VALLEY OF MIRTH.
THEY SAY IT IS RADIANT
LIKE THE PURPLE WORD;
NO, I HAVE NOT BEEN THERE
BUT DON’T WE SING IN THE SAME CHORD?