It was a war song
And a forgotten poem,
The long silence of
Of a January skies.

#ts #pgnt

A million times danced
Under the scorching sun,
A million more jibed
Under the pouring rain.

#ts #ssn #nss

"Rain," they call her.
But new are her scents
Always and old, and old
And very old will grow
The touch of her hands
On my September chicks,
So, "My love," I call her.

#ts #clmr

And so I will wait
For the warmth of love
To find me again;
But like a wound
Perhaps I will hug
The cold of pain, first.

#ts #clmr

And silent best becomes
You, for, out of question,
You were raised by silence.

#ts #nss

If when seen to the moth
I am one that survives on
Pretty flying butterflies,
Then 'least I ought to be;
One pretty flying butterfly.

#ts #btf

And in me too
The sun rises,
Whether or not
I know fully, and
Even if I see or
Do not see the
One which you
Know, if you do,
Or least call sun.

#ts #sn #nss

Recall you were loved,
In cold times and in
Earth's blankets I watched
Your sun rise to warmth.
I burned for the fire of you,
And for the fire of you
And from it I ran away.

#ts #clmr

Like blind eyes
If only I
Could look away
And never
See again.

#ts #nss

Your shine,
Not like mine:
Your aura bright-eyed
I hide.

#ts #nss

And after all the chaos
Is done over with,
I was never gone.

You know darling, first light is a season away,
You know darling this fire seldom dazzles;
If fears should come before they go away,
If seasons should spin before the dust settles,
Darling, why don't you come closer?
Why don't you come closer?

#ts #rtc

In us too the seasons rotate,
In us the sun and the moon set.

In us light has a warm home;
In us darkness is welcome.

#ts #lt #hme

You're the smooth winter tone
And too the summer solstice,
Mistakenly struming into
My brown sweet dream.

#ts #ssn

Oh, the places
you'll find love.

#ts #clmr