Love makes a home in the hurt of the heart

Birds chirp outside my window
I guess it is morning now
What was once the call of dawn
Is now the daunt of dusk

The unspoken hurt holds heavy
On my tired timid tongue

If you were a book,
I'd read you again.

If you were a ride,
I'd wait in line.

If you were my dream,
I'd never awaken.

If you were a star,
I'd never look down.

If you were a flower,
I'd never look up.

If you were mine,
I don't know what I'd do;
But I'd do it.