The gutters outside my house are full of white blossoms --
white blossoms blowing, drifting across the streets of my home.
Breezes carry the sweet fragrance of spring's early beauty and lost late loves.
There is a hole in my soul that will not close.
A mouth appears behind a scream.
Fuzios! Fuzios! Fuzios!
I cannot stop writing
word songs
to your
name.