baby poem

short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
i am dying
when the wind works against us in the dark
just as my fingers on these keys
full of tears
backward, turn backward
hang no wreath
did you ever hear of
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
the long resounding marble corridors
i walk down the garden paths
long has the summer sunlight shone
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars