poetry anthology

out of the window a sea of green trees
he'd even have his joke
when the wind works against us in the dark
and so it goes
with joy and wonder
she burst fierce wine
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
softly now the light of day
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
for these white arms about my neck
but alas, just dreams
i despise my friends more than you