math poem

and so it goes
she said
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
old wine to drink
i expect you
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
i wonder where you live
which keeps
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
there is an hour of peaceful rest
in the cloud-gray mornings
blossoms of babies
and my name is truthful
daughters of time