The elegance, the shadows on long grass
on the last days of August
ghosts of the recently past
calling, exploring before us
a balance here is struck in the flowers
and the thorns once forbidding
cruelty and beauty entwined
swept up and blown on the four winds
and thrown on the four winds
keep me in days of perfection
freeze me these days of perfection
the riddle's writ in all of this passing
never ever returning
but if you want
every day could be just as perfect