My fingers ply at the mask
Janis should be our patron saint
My smile tears at your frown
Warm pleasant thoughts try to thaw
Distant storms stir dreams of hope
Your person moat worn like badge
With no bridge we stay afar
Mysteries of imaginary barriers
Built by ghosts waiting for your bidding
I visits them regularly in your place
But still my fingers ply at the mask
When do I dare remove it?