Landy

You whisper love, on throwaway 'phones, your ravaged face a moon, you wear a hooded coat, saints reveal their bomes, they massages your soul, your hands in kid gloves, a life learning to moan, you fly to those who give, frisky as a spring foal, silent as a snowy owl, survey the market zones, eager to earn a crust, is why you'll follow, fresh linen and Cologne, when men need a shawl, apply the sacred oaths, won't let them pray alone, far beyond the purple dust, your star is coming home, they know how much lost, how much sown.