Work Text:
A prose and a rose
All that I can propose;
For all that is lovely
I compose only for thee
For the girl of my eye,
The world-yearning wind, a tree of the yard and a wildly winged struter
But the day hasn't been the best;
So I regret and fall back
So I lay prest
into a pit and against my desk
All for a rest
from lifely fatigue,
plaguing me to the plummet of weave
Momentarily
I believe I can be relieved;
without a friend
In the comfort of my paper and pen
without a desire
Momentarily
I believed I could relieve myself
of all Worldly desire
Though it's impossible
I have only a prose and a rose;
It's tough to accept such a lowly propose
All that is lovely
was poisoned in my mind
All little that I desired:
was meaning and love;
But it seems so,
I can only find so;
In the tearing paper of my prose and the withering rose of mine
Only I prevail, lone with
a prose and a rose
All that is lovely to me
I once wrote to thee
Only you shall now read and see
The prose and the rose
I left for thee.