My soul is transfigured
in your anoited presence
among these twisted vines and flowers
as they turn to harvest...

The beloved apparitions of my rite
leave me for all eternity
my soul feels like an abandoned child
forbidden in this month of March
to go and gather flowers for his brethren...

Still I gaze at the tender portrait
with timid smile always on your face
with purple-red ember of passion
fulfilled and nurtured by your favor...

I sigh freely in your presence
and seek to bring you home to me
in this field of poppy and flowers
my arms around you like twisted vines of grapes..