Oui, la nuit je mens.

Glittering memories.

Mémoires d'une jeune sardine.

Like a coffee cup on a table.

Je reviens te chercher, je savais que tu m'attendais.

And the coolness of your smile is

stirring of birds between my arms; but

I should rather than anything

have (almost when hugeness will shut

quietly) almost,

your kiss.

- E. E. Cummings

That glowing September, softly fading away.