i composed this in old prose, because i wanted it be sung like an old english lullaby.
erin is my daughter.
i love her & miss her very much.
She alone, would understand this poem.
This is an afterthought, but I just realized how much this sounds like those cafe rats that drink coffee and call it art... THey think saying 'cha' and snapping their fingers can turn words to poetry... Dammit.
