The scent of past prime jasmine flowers
Hangs thick on anxious air
Bloomed this day while I am gone,
In my heart
Someone has cut
A small hole
So all passion’s fierce bile
Has leaked out,
Soaked deep now in embrace of earth
Coursing like molten veins,
A dusty quiet fills my mind
Sprinkled on scattered paper piles,
All these thoughts have hushed to hear
The sagging sigh of sleep.