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