Ophelia

In days of autumn's wire, night rides black and cold, stars fall down like ice, no matter what we sing, the wind is fierce and bold, knows which bells to ring, love is juxt desire, if we're not at home, blows flame across our fire, our cries recall something, lost on mobile ‘phones, wanting substance anything, absence asks what we renqire, to say if we're alone, what we need to aspire, in this yellow evening, our wanting to atone, in any way stop feeling, what's written on a board.