My Love is out of country
In spaces of the Spring
Where Sun shines always brightly
And whisky isn’t sin.
I want her coming lightly.
It lets for steps to fly.
I see her dressed of flowers
I want her when insane…
I have no home for soul,
My Soul’s rustles soar…
It smells of she in air –
And I’m in thunder’s dome…
Can’t see.
Can’t feel.
Can’t think…