Things become adjusted
being by a lonely window.
My thoughts a window were
testing a silly lemon.
Staring over with dusky swells.
Not a funny reason to be so
sublime as to recall anything
I've left behind.
A burden that is to me
what I left true.
What to make of adieu?
Ceilinging these many pieces
the purge of some lamp.
Or the endtopic of some laugh.