I thought that the difference was impeccable,
like the soft drops mildewing the meadows,
of the far away sheep and the nearby crooks,
from ablaze daylight.
the eyes barely changed,
from the passionate full moon that it once was,
The origin of hope.
The heart though, is intertwined with
reality suspended in fantasy galore.
I know for sure that the familiar haven is abandoned.
But the raucous figure refuses to budge.