Una

Look at the moon, a spring tide today, everything too soon, the birds who have flown, seeking away, sing as they go, my eyes are like pools, wouldn't it be great, to find somewhere new, even a hurricane zone, where no one deigns, to oversee the loans, someone not cruel, but poised and sedate, who forgets about dues, where the wind blows, clear as acetate, all emptiness thrown, into the flames.