with pretty succubus behind a shoulder
witnessing dance of ever-yellow leaf
taste dainty of this changing season, it is older
than any joy and any given grief
For me the point of a major interest
Whom should I bless?
The Time, the Lady? Tenderness
Or luck which seems
I occupied at terms of lease?
Not at my ease
To judge the moment I would not forget
If I'm allowed.
When bedside lamp was neatly bent
For it not to disturb beloved
Not to attract, with numb unspoken vowels,
Surprised and ugly-looking looks
Who steal and mar the bliss.
Whom should I bless for numerous retreats
Of that farewell kiss?
The Time, the Lady,
And that tenderness beneath.
Beyond logical ORs and ANDs
The scene of brutal soldiers
For each town or city I choose to dwell
in, I know I am observed quite well
And familiar eye is following me
As all doings of mine are letters to thee.