Barra

We dream of kisses, blown or tossed away, from those in the mist, we think of home, that brought us pain, and bled our bones, rage makes us lift, our trouble as gain, or slaves to the shift, we don;t need to know, there's only one page, to allow we're alone, like uncertain drifts, of snow on the plain, we pass as ghost ships, sometimes on our trip, we diminish the flame, somewhere in what we miss, we say what we say.