POSTHUMOUS CONNECTION

Little dancing one, my bright eyes,
Golden haired fair child, as those that Gregory saw

Pale and thoughtful in the marketplace.
Little angel who, when cherubim was turned away,
Leapt from the Cosmos to my womb,
Fusion of our beings.

Little one how can I leave now you?
How can I bear the dark cold towers that surround,
When tiny arms should circle me?
How can I hear the pulse of this great city’s groans,
When your pure laughter is my music?
What comfort is the sighing autumn wind?
Without my darling’s kiss?