friend poetry

the old songs
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
in an old chamber softly lit
i have seen the proudest stars
their beautiful hair
since i have felt the sense of death
brother, i am fire
when i was broke in london
white foam flower, red flame flower
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
you are clear
sweet with fern and rose
mysterious night
i stood by the open casement