child poetry

simplicity
we break the glass whose sacred wine
what spiteful chance steals unawares
beautiful
to the passionate lover
of sun nor stars
listen to the sounding sea
come down at dawn from windless hills
beneath the warrior's helm
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
i burn no incense
there were three in the meadow by the brook
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
the fragrance came