poetry for kid

she might have known it in the earlier spring
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
who will be naming the wind
sad are they who know not love
the lightning flashed, and lifted
as it
i am the wind that wavers
old wine to drink
now while my lips are living
for these white arms about my neck
to some the fat gods
beneath my window in a city street
and my name is truthful