Oh lonely code thy process all forlorn
Loops but to toil in thankless servitude
Unpraised for wit but savaged with ill scorn
At each found bug or flaw that thou exude

Yet if thou fork and then do spawn a child
A mother's mirror born of innocence
To share life's load, transactions reconciled
In mutex'd memory twixt each paired instance

Thy yield increased would empty buffers make
To give thee pause to take a cycled breath
And running on anon until a break
Or Control-C brings unto thee a death

An orphaned child thy memory would keep
Or die, or zombify in restless sleep

Rest peaceful 'neath a dusk-kissed brass engraving,
Atop the climb a stony path has reached;
Look down on all the troubles you were saving,
Thankful you rarely practiced what they preached.

Keep up thy vigil, dimpled shepherdess!
Gift night a lantern light to guide lost stars
Strayed from the flock, treaty with tenderness
Soft grazing grounds in heaven's nebulas,

Look low for lone stars fallen from on high,
Feasting on kindling tree-tops laced in cloaks
Of lily blossomed snowy dew drop sighs
Billowed from scattered cushion clouded smokes,

Look further still beneath the ice-fringed eaves
Of gold-spun thatched roofs dotted down the lane,
Footfall echoes stolen by kingly thieves
Triumphantly majestic in their rain:

Look last for shadow framed in windowed light
Keeping thy lonely vigil through the night.

Come, silver moon, alight on troubled clouds,
Gift them thy saintly glow lifting the gloom
Levied below, with flowery haloed buds
Springing forth like the lamb from mother's womb,

Light up anew hedgerows and quilted fields
Where cattle sleep in clusters like faint stars,
Constellations huddled upon the wolds,
Breath nebulous as fogging stale cigars;

Ill omens thrive to drift in darkest times
From cloud to stony cloud above the night,
Watching for victims from high lofted climes,
Raining full pent up fury of their might:

Come, silver moon, gift troubled clouds thy lining,
Hope lives in thee as long as thou art shining!

Whence comes thy ill? Thy brooding bitter pill
Ploughed deep in fertile soil, sprouting to seed
Snake-like tendrils crawling to sprawl and spill,
Choking lush verdant fields with poisoned ****;
Wilted young peaches, withered pears dying,
Irises blinded, red chrysanthemums
Faded to white, strewn petals borne on sighing
Dark fitful clouds rend'ring the landscape numb;
Oh bitter pill, thy loathsome poisoned thrill
Afflicts one tainted by unsated need
To wilt and wither, blinded, faded, ill
Craving for thee with hollowed hateful greed;
    Sweet bitter pill, thou will be coveted
    Till once ripe lush and verdant fields lay dead.

Fair maid, your beauty sleeps on marble stone,
Yet warm spring color drapes upon your breast,
Whose rise and fall like splendoured kingly throne
Would overthrow all doubt you are at rest;
How delicate, how soft each gentle sip
Of morning air delighting of your tongue,
Playfully dancing over your sweet lips,
Flitting away to voice your slumbered song;
How sound you sleep, your tranquil dreams expressed
By chest upheaved in rhythms, gaily dressed.

Far far beyond awaking, do you roam
With kindred spirits through a leafy glade?
Nymphs born of elder days welcome you home
To bathe in springs beneath old forest shade;
They sing of love for when the world was young,
When forests grew unhindered o'er the land,
When each new day was blessed by endless sun,
When fertile earth knew naught of desert sand:
Your voice rejoiced to join their merry cheer,
My ears rejoiced with every song they hear.

Fair maid, I wonder will you e'er return,
Or will the dreaming keep you for its own?
My eyes behold your beauty, yet they yearn
For tho' you are still here, I am alone;
Bid farewell to the forests, to your kin,
Bid farewell to each cool refreshing stream,
Return to wear the beauty of your skin,
Your kin will wait in some forever dream:
But now I pray you'll wake, return to me,
To see the dreams my eyes reflect of thee.