Small things matter, they are the scourge
Of surgery and befrienders
As for children...they will never grow in my
Host world
They lose me without having had the nearness
I raise them with broken arms
I deflect nature
I melt faith
Nature has no place in modern life
Faith has no corner, no flies to feed on it
And happiness, happiness
Turns its back on me
Infelicity is my software
My hard copy is torn and sozzled
Is a draff copy