Hot pokers fell into my well. br She wrote! br It's been so many moons. br She took my blood, br and analysed it all. br br Those were the days, br she had the expertise, br the looks and when she said, br let's walk, we missed the frigging bus, br and walk we did, as underfoot br a thousand maple leaves, br discarded and alone, br sang out in agony of sorts, br we paid no heed, but did br for decades yet to come, br store all the music of that day br away, so sweetly far, and even further br far away. br br One cannot speak of these events, br we shall not know, br what human spirits can, br in memory recall, br but in a moment when the angels sing their song br my heart could falter and will ultimately fall. br br I have been raised in a cold climate of despair. br Where only science and its disciples survive.