The morning is always fresh and bright
At 9:34
When I walk past the window.

Tears Till April

I would weep ten thousand tears
To have you know I love you.
I would swim ten thousand oceans
To have you in my arms.
I would write ten thousand symphonies
To hear you play just one.
I would catch ten thousand stars
To find your heart.

Skipping Silence

The moon is too bright tonight, my love
I cannot see your face.
A trembling vale of sinister shadows
Has cooled your embrace.

The sky is too still this eve, my dear
No twinkling stars above.
The deepest, farthest, blackest night
Is closer than your love.

The wind blows too warm this hour, my sweet
Each gust a sultry breath,
Not of an angel or fairy, though.
It is the sigh of death.