I well know,my dear,
That oxen and grass
Are more akin
Than you and me.
I well know...
Clusters of carrion
Would rather be heaved
And offal spewed
By the throats of the Skies
Than witness us in one breath -side by side...
Yet even today mine pen screams your name,
And paints you in monochrome hues.
Berating me for being so ludicrous,
To ever fall in love with you....