Flowers
Wild Angel
My angel is undoubtedly 
The strangest of the kind 
At times, she flies before me 
And then she stays behind 

She always seems to follow 
Her own rules and laws 
Her waters are so shallow 
Her sea is like the claws 

Of the young fox whose shyness 
Will never show again 
After his first prey's blindness 
Has washed him like the rain 

Taking away his innocence 
Laughing at his wild heart 
Whose scream is reduced to silence 
And silent of whose prey's the heart

December 27, 1997
 
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