Fr1203A


On the World
you colored
Morning painted
rose –
Idle his
Vermillion
Aimless crept stole
the Glows
Over Realms
of Orchards
I the Day
before
Conquered
with the Robin –
Misery – how fair
Till your
wrinkled Finger
Shoved pushed the
Sun away
Mid<d>night′s
awful Pattern
In the Goods
of Day –