If sleep could touch my cheek,
I would ask for her slender hand
a thousand times.
If sleep did fall upon me now,
I dare not wake.
No.
I dare…not…
If sleep could touch my cheek,
I would ask for her slender hand
a thousand times.
If sleep did fall upon me now,
I dare not wake.
No.
I dare…not…
I just watched Lord of the rings, again;
I’m certain I’ve missed my calling as an Elf.
Twirling leaves, swaying, falling.
Flowing gowns, floating on air.
Softness.
Romance.
Light and trees.
I’m certain I’ve missed my calling as an Elf.
Oh well.
There’s always next time.
It would be okay,
I believe,
If you were to make a wish
and put it in your pocket.
It would be okay,
especially so,
if the wish was sweet.
For a wish made carefully
is often much sweeter
if forgotten
(in a pocket)
and found
somewhere along the drifting line
of life.
Somewhere lovely,
of course.
Somewhere really quite lovely,
I would think.
Somewhere between the quiet
and the haze, I go
to sit for a while.
Somewhere
between the quiet
and the haze.
And you might ask me
what I hope to find there.
You might ask me if it’s true.
That the haze shimmers like a thousand suns,
and the quiet melts like vanilla cream
on apple pie, oh, sweet love.
I would tell you
you must seek for yourself
the whispers, true.
Somewhere between the quiet and the haze
you must go.
Ah, the loveliness.
There it is again.
As smooth as the drifting river,
as quiet as the song of a mother
to the sky.
Lovely loveliness.
The sweetest of all the dreams.
The possibilities are endless.
The possibilities
are
endless.
Dare to look.
Dare to see.
The lonely soul
is a beauty.
She is quiet,
so quiet
as she whispers her way
through the noise,
through the dark,
through the rain.
Sing a sweet song to her.
Call to her
and she shall hand you
a soft and thoughtful dream.
This silence
is the cloud I fall upon
when I don’t know where to fly.
How beautiful
just to float.
Here.
Now.
Eternally.
What colour shall I paint my sky?
Soft-pink and grey:
clouds of spun sugar,
sweet dreams that drift me to life?
Bring me a cool breath of clarity.
Bring me a little light,
and I will shine it, wherever I may go.
Though the roads may crumble
and darken
and fade,
I will have my little light.
I will have my sweet dreamy sky.
Her flight
was sweet.
And every bit as magical
as the hummingbird
sipping honeysuckle
beside her.