From the light years of my journey

I will send you gifts

Wrapped in blue paper

You will not receive them

As blue is not a reflective colour

 

From the depths of this space

I will send you my frag songs

Wrapped in blue paper

You will not receive them

Due to the density of silk

 

You swim naked in the cress (lakes) beds

Of my farm

Your breasts taste of fresh (sharp) mustard

Which is most agreeable

 

I shall remember this as I travel

Reading your book of verse