Forwarding address,
‘No longer there’
A naked white sheet,
Of paper, so neat,
In my face,
Does stare!
Gone the glorious phrases,
Put together like no other,
Beautified like child by mother,
And conceived in Heaven’s chatter,
I go back and seem to gather,
Floating petals from a rose,
That does not know where it goes,
Swept by winds of make believe,
To imaginary Nations,
Where there is no longer feeling,
Far from all the deep temptations,
Gone is all the Inspiration,
What a pity, what a pity!
But your place will not be taken,
And your Alter will be there,
With the rose that was forsaken,
And my heart torn in despair.