The wilted orchids yearn for water
to bloom and sprout out in winter
as the dusty desert dreams of fresh leaves
and autumn showers alter the vineyards. ...
I'm ceded-I've stopped being Theirs-
The name They dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church
Is finished using, now,
And They can put it with my Dolls,
My childhood, and the string of spools,
... Read complete poem