Fort's
Worth
weave for me roses,
soft autumn roses
white in the maiden
hair
weave for me roses,
white bruis'ed
roses,
soft in the still
twilight air.
spring time and
autumn,
dawn time and
even,
time at her balance,
weights all her
seasons.
so calm he was
in his infinite
processional
so calm as he
turned
the shy eyed gun
to choice targets,
two of each
and one
to balance him.
and him.
weighed with his
seasons,
balanced in rage
and reason
drawn from decision's
dawning,
culled at the
spring,
all spring time's
thawing
stumbled and falling.
weave for me roses,
soft autumn roses
white in the maiden
hair
weave for me roses,
white bruis'ed
roses,
soft in the still
twilight air.
