STRAY BIRDS
196
"My heart is like the golden casket of thy kiss," said the sunset cloud to the sun.
197
By touching you may kill, by keeping away you may possess.
198
The cricket's chirp and the patter of rain come to me through the dark, like the rustle of dreams from my past youth.
199
"I have lost my dewdrop," cries the flower to the morning sky that has lost all its stars.
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