there are still some left
not all beautiful things are lost
a grass flower in windy waft
windowpane's wintry frost.

not all good things are gone with time
like wet leaves in the summer rain
tides and ebbs the seasons' rhymes
the house on the corner lane!

not all sweet things are gone dead sour
like her touch in the cold of night
birds' trills in the morn's first hour
thrill of love at first sight!

there are still left the honey dew
some redress for all our sorrow
not all is lost for you and I
to give up dreaming tomorrow!

“…wait, are you afraid of the dark?” he asked with a tone of disbelief.
“So what if I am?”
“Well, I'd say that's a shame. You allow your imagination to control you.”
She couldn’t disagree. He was right and she was embarrassed.
“turn off the light,”
silence.
"and just listen to my voice."
And she did.

I wish I didn't want you so

but every time I see a sculpture (I can't
help but think of you)
and your silver eyes
your glassy, silver eyes
that penetrate my soul and
make my knees go weak
and heavy like I'm
wading through weighted water
and trudging, moving forward, current pushing back
it's all the same.

It's all the same in how I am impaled through the chest
with your brilliance
and your soft demeanor
and there are so many hidden places of you
behind so many walls
of which I know nothing.
I know nothing of you at all.

And I am sure I love you.
I am sure I love everything about you that
you have ever done and found
and all of those mysteries veiled
behind the mask you wear for me.
In this dimly lit room I know I
love you so

I looked into your eyes
And it felt as though they were
A direct window
Into space, and the galaxies
And the constellations
Unfolded before my very eyes,
Each star the twinkling
Like the little lights
That hang from my walls.

And as I looked deeper,
All of a sudden,
I realised that if my world were to fall apart around me,
It would be alright
Because I could still come home
And look at you
And there would be endless worlds
I could fall into.

She stirred from within Matthew's shadow.
Grasping Silence in one free hand.
Thinking of the consequences awaiting her if.
She used that power.
A company of spear-men.
Circling Toblin's convoy with keen edges in hand.
Would loose fierce rebuke if she were found.
Still alive.
Matthew clutched his chest and pulled down.
Just his stomach this time.
Could I spend the rest of our lives.
Wrapped in song sweetened by his thunder.
I'd part my clouds to let him in.