The Grey Has Spoken and Fled

I’m amazed, the grey has spoken. My love—a heartbeat; and

So afraid. Thus—a whisper: thus—a breath. But such is pain,

A desert prayer; and hinted joy, a moment keen. I admire

Love, lost—afflux the webs. My amore, so gold, a touch of

Weal and woe. I vox flame, my greyest love. Such words, a

Soul to print; and such beige, the shyest tone. We cringe—the

Silence; and voice the art. And sweetest night, a wave of

Chants, an ear to whisper. My poison fair, imbue the grey,

Adrift the light. Indeed, pine the creek—a sore afflatus. We

Dine near the mouth, a cave of flowers. The grey is silent: I

Probe a dream: something has terrified grey. My sweet amore,

A frightened voice: love has shattered heart. Our tree is

Poisoned: our cave, has given up the ghost: the flowers have

Wilted. My grey: so distant: running through the desert.