Franca

Why does time resonate, a web in blue trees, threads across my face, was it some cold dawn, where you sang so clean, the year Lady born, couldn't get past your gaze, shrunk back on my heels, to hear that voice again, you didn't falter, down desolate streets, to worry about the fall, your Ma in broken rage, dug that post war scene, butterflies came late, but what you spawned, let us all break free, still leaves me fallen, at your feet.