teen poetry

how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
glass-blower of time
the snow whispers about me
he speaks not well
there's one that i once loved so much
melancholy days have come
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
hang no wreath
we lay
sun stepped down from his golden throne
gone are the three, those sisters rare
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
that year
to the passionate lover