Rosa

She has such a giving way, she brings me Bollinger, on Christmas Day, what can we do alone, without repentance, in circumstances of our own, wine pours down my face, it’s like a Christening, she cuts the Angel cake, are we here or gone, she hasn't got a pot to piss in, we laugh at the unknown, choose to live or waste, call our lives as witness, poured upon to pray, she stumbles down the road, like a totem off the sea, those trips on our bones, are my greatest days, when not scared shitless, gives the ease to celebrate, a lovely spirit.