Fiorella's Poetry

    

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      Why should I grow old and gray,

      The twilight at the close of day,

       The rose, full blown, that falls away

       To dew-damped grass, to there decay,

       Rather than the early morn 

       When the son is being born--

        Stay, O stay, eternal spring  

        And let me dance 'round the fairies' ring  

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        I don't drink beer

         I don't drink wine

         But ply me with chocolate

         And I am thine

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           The day was bright with sunshine

            The foliage gemmed with green  

            The grass was far too happy

            The sidewalk was too clean

            And I was filled with consciousness 

             Of what could not be seen   

                  A soul is racked with birth pains

                 Before the truth is born  

                  A sky is rent with heavy rains 

                  Before the dawn of more

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