Review

White.
Forged melodramas into water,
I had my help from it, the snow.
I broke my tears for fear I'd stutter
With him behind me, I failed to glow.

A game of peace, a game of war;
Stonepaved face, reflection gains reign.
Further, closer, I pushed the door:
Nothing I'd say, he would retain.

He had his keys, I'd let him have them.
They got old, lacking in usage.
Dripping water knew they'd happen
To change colour, none was salvaged.


Green.
What immense space he had left hollow!
But what can't blossoms still undo?
His shadow still I feigned to follow
Beyond my very efforts not to.

Then what ideal I made of him!
Fancying sublime traits and ways:
My self-possession seemed so dim;
My eyes still kept an even pace.

He had his keys, I'd changed the lock.
Try though he might, I would not yield.
Still I knew he was not to knock;
In vain my might, in vain the shield.


Golden.
How I crawl in non-existence,
How I fail to utter 'yes, it's true!'
And I whisper, 'why the distance?'
And answer yet, 'because of you!'

Forever a time for questioning;
A last try before the clock strikes five;
His absence, an ideal so threatening
Leaves me hopeless, hardly alive.

Yet enough with this self-pity.
I have risen for one thing I know!
It is not him whom I find so witty -
But wherein he would lastly grow!


Auburn.
Have you missed me long, dear relief?
How long has it been, a year or so?
How do I meet with my mischief
Before September? I'm filled with awe.

Whatever reply you have, mine's one:
It is but life running down my spine!
And life's a circle which has spun
Long before I could come back in line.

So blame me not, dear friend, you see,
I know my philosophies endear -
Not you, not me, but then it would appear
You've wasted your nights talking to me.

For an absent-minded musician.