This is how the story goes

A hint a wink a word a prose

A flutter a shudder of butterfly wings

Shaking and nervous the bells they ring

Take a deep breath in 7 out 11

Lips turn upwards smile to the heavens

A golden thread weaves a web

Of home and comfort unleavened bread

Aroma drifts amongst the mist

To nostrils flared and flesh bared

In Northern lands and small hands

Creating beauty wherever you stand

Those dark shades and green blades

Of flowers growth as Spring bloats

And brings you beauty as you gloat

As my tears akerchief soaks

And depths of black succumbs my breath

This reality hurts I long for death