The Difficult Part Of Love Is Being

Most People Know More As They Get Older: I Give All That The Cold Shoulder.

Heads In The Women's Ward On Pillow After Pillow Lies The Wild White Hair And Staring Eyes; Jaws Stand Open; Necks Are Stretched With Every Tendon Sharply Sketched; A Bearded Mouth Talks Silently To Someone No One Else Can See. Sixty Years Ago They Smiled At Lover, Husband, First-born Child. Smiles Are For Youth. For Old Age Come Death's Terror And Delirium.

The Way The Moon Dashes Through Clouds That Blow Loosely As Cannon-smoke... Is A Reminder Of The Strength And Pain Of Being Young; That It Can't Come Again, But Is For Others Undiminished Somewhere.

Dear, I Can't Write, It's All A Fantasy: A Kind Of Circling Obsession.

What Are Days For? Days Are Where We Live. They Come, They Wake Us Time And Time Over. Theyare To Be Happy In: Where Can We Live But Days?