Windy morning, rustling leaves You reach for my hand and place it inside the warmth of your glove For a moment, I feel you hesitate And I, suddenly afraid Remember…
On that fateful morning I sat on a wooden bench Beneath a fading tree… And whispered your name to an open sky Releasing you, I watched as you spiraled, swirled…
In my loneliest days I used to dream of clouds I would walk through them As they billowed and grazed the ground Night after night They would come back for…
Somehow I always felt you close Sensed a truth, a knowing Like a knot Unraveling in the dark indentations Of my lonely self Are you there… bashful soul? What is…
