You can fully breathe without me for three hours kissing statues' sleeves, collecting western flowers. I'm an iron ball, so heavy when you're leaving. And summer turns to fall with rains pouring rhythm. I cannot gently step, The gritting edge of iron Comes grinding on my nap In sullen heaths of Byron. Reachless bamboo tree, you build walls in one dawning. I pull just breaths of three counting yours till morning.