- Spring Days -
I have friends I don't speak to.
They wither and fade,
yet when the darkbells toll and sound,
and the nights grow pale and lucid,
these old lost kinfolk wander back.
I wish I could bring myself to put
those damn letters in the mailbox.
I wish I could remember
where it was I shoved their phone numbers.
I wish I could
forget those spring days
when they were by my side.
