Ever felt like a misfit?
Everything twisted?
Memories alter like seasons
Yet,precious like a carcanet
Felt pell-mell?but hidden like colors
At heims on a forswear night.
And yet everyone has been there
Been deserted and agitated to go out,
In the blooming flower bed.
To relume is appalling,nevertheless
Every season is charming and
Every transmute can be a rapture
Wherefore to particoat when everyone has been there?