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The dancing of ginger over ivory silhouettes. The sparkling
of rivers beneath the constellations. The perfume of autumn
gilding vacant alleyways; surrounding a heartfelt embrace.
Can you see me now by the gateway. In this avenue. Lying
on the plane. Leaves are cradling tears from angels. To the
garden I make my dying way. The slothful beholding of a
thousand statuettes. The dark, wanton glare of the green
man on the facade. The gentle enquiry of the spirits resting
here; surrounding a tearful adieu. Can you see me now
by the gateway. In this avenue. Lying on the plane. Leaves
are cradling tears from angels. To the garden I make my
dying way.

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