It's funny
How sorrows melt
When dancing.
Because songs
Transcend the moment
And remind of
Other little moments
And memories
That aren't reachable.
So one grows sad.

But then a hand
Reaches out,
Attached to a friend
And his smiling face.
"Would you care to dance?"

At the start,
Your smile is fake,
An act.
But then it becomes
real.

Le Rossignol

Les poets n'ont pas des frontières.

Nous sommes citoyens
Du monde.
Nos mots sont
Nos drapeaux.
Nous sommes pour
Tous les temps
Et tous les vies.

Les poets n'ont pas des frontières.

Nous sommes le vert de printemps,
Le chaud d'été,
Le rouge d'automne,
Et le froid d'hiver.
Nous sommes vieux et jeunes,
Vrai et faux.

Les poets n'ont pas des frontières.
Et nous payons avec nos vies.

My heart hurts.
Somebody fix it
Because I'm going
To run out
Of chocolate and tea.
No rhyme,
No reason to this;
Just struggling
And confusing
Humanity messing things up.
 
As usual.

I refuse to cry.
I've done enough of that
In these recent times.

Homesickness
Is so easy to ignore
When there's homework
And dancing
But then one old hymn,
Sung at advent
In your mind,
Appears and suddenly
Home is very far away.

Rage,
Goddess sing
The rage
Of one remembering
And regretting.
Rage,
Sing the rage
And let it burn,
But do not destroy.
Ilium was always
Meant to fall.

I want time to fly.
I know it will,
So it's an easy wish.
While yes,
I want to cherish
Every fleeting moment
Of my first year
Away at school,
I'm also anxious
To end this time
Away from you.