All sunk in slumbernEyes bedewednYour lips will come ungluednThough tears becloud the sightnnOf kites torn asundernin the bluenA silver spittle slewnWe grace wings under nightnnDrain the daynPlain on her dripping facenIs the sun in gold and glacenPain like the lorriesnTracing their circlesnIn search of something gaynnThrice blinks the bridenAnd mothers mewnThese nectar rivers stirnTo pollenate your eyesnnQuiet in the neverland of noonnThe smell of sinking moonsnAnd drool of gentle lies n