as the sun melts down
like butter
but only as it rises
don’t act surprised if
if I roll off you
as the morning dew

If you’re not there
as grey clouds
pour shrouds of pelting rain
but only as the rainbow
bridges the sky
I’ll form wings and fly

If you’re not there
as the oak grows bare
in the thick of the winter
as the trees splinter
don’t step at all
as golden, crimson
marmalade blanket shade
in the fall

Its the age between petal and
leaves
In the air that the woodland
breathes
From the darkness of the night
To the linen mornings wear
From a kingdom underwater
To being masters of the air