Words have always come to me,
As easy as the air I breathe,
And now they turn their heads and flee,
So I can't write my poetry.

Don't ask me to write pretty words,
They're gone as far as I'm concerned,
They've flown away like little birds,
And now there's nothing to be heard.

I've used up every single rhyme,
A new hobby would be sublime,
I'm sick of always keeping time,
Like breaking it would be a crime.

But even when I try to write,
It seems my flowing thoughts are tight,
The silence gives me quite a fright,
Like darkness in the dead of night.

It's time to say goodbye to day,
So it's good the words have gone away,
I didn't want them anyway.
It's good they didn't want to stay.

Those words have never done me good,
Or gave me solace like they should,
I wonder if they ever could.
Perhaps I have misunderstood.

But anyway the point is made.
I can't keep up with this facade.
The race is done, the game is played,
And now my poems have to fade.

So now my life is up to fate,
To leave you this is what I hate,
And one last poem would be great.
To say goodbye and then- oh wait...

Have I been rhyming all along?
Did I really write another song?
I thought my words had said "so long,"
Now they've come back to prove me wrong.

Goodnight to the child who seems wide awake.
Rock-a-bye baby who’s lost in the waves.
Sleep tight to the girl who can feel the ground shake.
Listen well to the song you will take to your graves.

Let the half-moon embrace you in silvery light,
While invisible winds dry your tears.
Let your souls shine in heaven and brighten the night,
And the stars melt away all your fears.

Farewell, little ones, now we bid you adieu,
‘Till we meet on the road to the sky,
And the wings we have damaged are finally made new.
But for now we must tell you goodbye.

If emotion changed the weather,
There would be a little shower.
Speckled sun would light the rain,
That rests on every flower.

But yesterday would have brought storms,
Who’s thunder echoed loud,
And lightning in the darkest night,
Exposed the angry clouds.

The day before was overcast,
Without much more to tell.
Days like those are common,
And I know them very well.

Tomorrow might bring summer sun,
Or winds that pull up trees,
Or autumn’s firey colors,
Or winter’s ruthless freeze.

Today though, there are rainbows,
And drops that seem to glow.
The birds are singing special songs,
From many years ago.

There are drums in the distant gray sky,
And they drum to the beat of the wind,
And my heart follows closely in time,
To the sound bringing chills to my skin.

And the hooves of the deer echo back,
As they’re racing across the long field,
With the lightning the sky seems to crack,
From the bolt that great Jupiter wields.

And the storm brings destruction in rain,
And the oak trees bend down to the floor,
And the ones who do not bow in pain,
Are the ones who are surely no more.