Irene

The year Lady passed away, couldn't get rid of blues, was shrunken day by day, wanted to be alone, not see anyone I knew, on the street or Metro, but you became my angel, I didn't have a clue, flung bad thoughts away, arranged all the loans, brought me chicken soup, put jelly on my bones, before this dying game, didn’t know what to do, life really such a waste, where would I call home, my head a pot of glue, actting like a jello one, you arrived to erase, all my bitter tunes, wings finer than any lace, stronger than perfume.