Black roses laced with silver
By a broken moon.
Ten million stars
And the wispered harmonies of leaves.
We werer these.
Beside a dried up fountain
Lie five dusty tomes
With faded pasted pictures
Of love's reverie.
Across each cover is written,
Herein are Photos of Ghosts
Of ghosts, of ghosts,
Of the days we ran and the days we sang.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI