A baby born but not a grudge he bares;
Whose blood so clean and pure like mountain spring,
Yet unblemished by scandals, love affairs,
And not a pinch of what sorrow could bring.
And deep in sleep too young to know of love
And lust, of crime was done because of shame.
Of shame of ****** moments that drove
To dump him cold naked without a name.
He knows not now of being called outcast.
But hate would come and callous jibes would tear
His heart as he grows and knew his past.
Their wage of sin for decades he'll bear.
What Devine assignment on him seeing,
Like blissful saint in quiet contemplating.

She twirls around the room
in a silky blue dress.
As if she were a ballerina
in a wooden music box.
Preforming the melody
inside her heart.
As the bewitching moonlight
shines upon her
making her as bright as the sun.
It reflects on her chestnut hair
that gently caresses her shoulders.
So blinding
but leaving you with the feeling of wanting more.
She smiles so brightly
that it warms the room.
Melting all the walls
you once put up.
As if she were a magician.
As if she could read your mind.
She whispers under her breath
so low that you cant hear.
You try to read her lips.
Cherry colored lips
They mouthed the words
you wanted to hear the most.
But before you could figure out the last word.
You wake up
and realized
It was all just a dream.
Just a beautiful dream.

The soft circle lifts its head to the rising sun as the moon waves goodbye
The hot ball of glorious nourishment releases its magical powers bathing those below in its glory

In my thoracic cavity is a clock
that rhythmically sounds tick, tock.
Pumping blood through my body
giving my hands an opportunity
to point out a good quality
And a fault.

It is good that you know I am with you
but a fault is found in this sad room
as sounds of this hospital's gloom
absorb into my aching brain
I almost miss your words full of pain
what you said will always stay.

"I think of days of old
days of gold
days that told
us to cling and hold
onto occasions
that you and I had.
Days I thought could not go bad
  Days I thought could not go bad."

Your clock ticks, but it would not tock
arrhythmic palpitations hold your body in lock
arms turn into stiff, limp imitations of parts
your body can find out how to start
its own trip into that forlorn dark
with no comfort from a singing lark.

I'm no lark, I bring no comfort of dawn
but I'll stay up with you as you yawn.
Your soul's windows full of worry
build up this notion your light will go in a hurry.

I vow to you as your light grows old
that you and I had days of gold
that you and I had days of gold.