By Mona Schiller
(Mona Schiller/Radio 1190)
Why is it that your tears excite me,
The thought of parting words delight me,
And split, to falling fields do dream,
Though all my drowning days do spite me,
In moonlight folding arms may seem,
But hold not what the eyes spell seen,
In fog-choked visions where we are,
So far from sun in solitary chain,
Floats over me where blood rains far,
And find there what they make us for,
Slight prophecies in your final sigh,
I’ve turned from canvas and from pen,
I’ve turned where flowers still grow high,
And maybe you will know me then,
And know me in the fevered sky.