A kiss, a breath, a touch felt only by the wind

I cannot see the trees; The leaves are thick

And the sap that makes the core sickly jealous

"This is what love is. Can't you see my dear?"

And in such words I find myself fallen

Such a felled tree, broken by its sweetness

May try again to stand but like before

It is not love; It is brittle sugar

That cracks without a choice against the wind

But choice is what the trunk must have to grow

For that is all love is in its wholness

This action is ignored yet publicized

In false precepts in the confusing tides

Now my dear is gone and so with her the breath

The touch, the kiss, the call, the silent air

But the choice I keep, not to give away