I have heard mermaids singing each to each.
I do not think they will sing to me.
The faces in the charged glass
Heartless, not direct to the eyes.
The eyes long to sparkle, long
have they been wooden, never wandering
Aeolus they linger on, the one that speaks of winds and waves
Jealous are they, for he sighs for the children clown to the surge.
Burnt. The only resonation lost
What better than desolation to echo a foreign voice?
Now pushed to the corner of their microcosm
The eyes are Selene's
The four walls form the cosmos-
The glass is the morning-eye.
