Write us anew
Maybe someone could write us a better home
ours to name, hours to roam.
Where nightingales come from afar
and a purple veil covers the stars.
Shining jewels become your dress
upon the beating you're adorned,
crowns of gold above our heads
bitter and sweet fashioned lore.
* * *
Under the foliage we were found
naked, cold, and coming to.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
No veil between the world, and me and you