Hymn of the heart
The song my soul never seeked
The writings I never wanted to keep
The beautiful pain that’s started to leak
And my ugly heart that only shrieked
I own your signature.
The dappled papers in the ancient literature
The ink rubbing against my thumb and forefinger
My adoring gaze caressing everything you and similar
Your darling face, particular
Although I am ever the wonderer:
Who was the relationship’s true severer?
The blissful cherry-pink of a spring-summer’s day?
It is but, I say:
Your ears’ colourful glaze
When I am not the one to spot you first; but they
Perhaps you are a swallow
With a sweet sound of chirp at morn - no sorrow
Dawn and midday, the sound is never hollow
And in my calm heartache, I wallow.
Perhaps the poppy and the willow
is a better combo
Although you weep with joy, not with ashamed gusto
I would be lost, without you, you know;
In fact, you are my hero.
No, no, whatever was I thinking - my mind must be slowing -
You are a stream, blue-silver and glowing
Helping us swim, getting us going
Taking a chance, and always flowing
Until you have been stopped by cold weather and snowing
Alibi: Faeren
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