I lay stiff at night with my memories haunting me,
memories of lost opportunities brought to me.
I was always to hesitant follow through.
It is a disease, in some ways it has helped me,
but it still delivers a slow, painful demise.

regret

The word is daunting in it's self let a lone the meaning.
I wish for no one to have regrets,
for I most of all know its pain.
I swim in a sea of regret,
the last boat has already passed.
Now I must learn to float,
or fall to the bottom as it encumbers me.

The wind that dances with trees
drops Summer's snowflakes, golden leaves.
And on our heads it blows the breeze.
Softly whistles, turns, and flees.

The ground where sky and soil meet,
plush and green beneath our feet,
And when you sit, the softest seat,
It stretches long below the street.

The willow, tall, he bravely stands,
Ole Rue he's called across the land.
And if you climb, and take his hand,
You'll feel his face, as smooth as sand.

From your window in the mill
You'll see the willow on the hill.
The wind, the ground, all silent, still
Until you're back to feel their thrill.

Have you ever heard that growl
That comes from some beast's mighty bowls
A rumble from way down the street
That makes you shake from head to feet?
Have you seen the woods at night
So dark it's seems there's never light.
Have you walked right down a trail
Dressed in red, so small, so frail.
Have you ever felt such fear,
You wish to see your mother dear,
One last time before the beast
Takes you in and makes a feast?
Food from the basket in your hand,
Have you ever seen such teeth on Gran?
Or claws so thick, they're rip and tear
Just by passing through the air?
Have you ever heard it told,
Where beast keeps Red within his hold?
The woodsman fell asleep that night,
But never had the beast to fight.
So Red was eaten with the bread,
She'd saved for Gran, who'd been long dead!
So now, I think I'm willing to bet
That you haven't heard that ending yet!

Hammer and anvil—
Flying sparks forged in irony,
Beast yearns for beauty.

Take my hand, dear, and I’ll take you far away
To a place where we can just talk all day

Let me be the one you want to talk to
I’ll give you every last small piece of me
I’ll take the moon from the stars just for you
Let me be the one you want to talk to

Darling, you’re so much more than you let on
Just one look from you and my heart was gone
We could be so much, if you knew my love
You just need to see – we fit like a glove

Let me be the one you want to talk to
I’ll give you every small piece of me
I’ll take the moon from the stars just for you
Let me be the one you want to talk to

I want to take your hand and spin you ‘round
Hold you tight and know what you’re all about
We’ll tap our feet to the faint drumming sound
Together we’ll dance ‘till our soles give out.

Let me be the one you want to talk to
I’ll give you every small piece of me
I’ll take the moon from the stars just for you
Let me be the one you want to talk to

We can shine like the stars on cloudless nights
Like summer rain, we’ll fall without a fight
We’ll watch the lightning with eyes opened wide
I promise to always be at your side.

To watch from below,
                  life expanding in every direction.
  I walk down a path of stone and soil,                  
     placid in comparison to the trees around me.
          I sit upon a stump, the wood colored with                                        
            darkened stains like abstract art of the gods.
I star out at the picture,                    
                                                                ­  unbroken,

and at its base,                              so vast, many arms
                                a willow;
wrapped and woven around its trunk would not      
                  touch on either side.
    Beyond the old willow, far distance mountains      
dressed decidedly as lingering fog, lay cluttered in powdered blue peaks along the horizon.
           I stood up, and approached the old      
       drawbridge, the metal rusted red on blue  
   railings. I smiled up at this miracle, where the    
      hands of Man and Mother Nature clasp
             in an embrace of grace and beauty,
                    and passed beneath it.
It was then I came upon the cliff,
                                             which drew up in a boast and dropped in a dare.
The ferns, in their envy, stretched to reach as high    
      as the speckled rocks that towered against a      
                      painted, sunset sky.  
   I pressed my toes to the cut and shrapnel of the  
   cliff, and descended, a leap if faith. For it is said, 'When a man jumps from a cliff, he could fall...or he could fly.'

I don't see blackness when I close my eyes,
I see you, me -- our moment.
Us sitting waist deep in the river between islands,
small waves lulling, and a sun
dripping oranges and reds to the west.
There is a laughter that carries the birds higher,
as we toss small shells at each other,
and you teach me to skip rocks.

Tell me if you wish it'd been different.

I think of what could have been
every time I see you
every time I hear you
every time I breathe.
The stray shell would graze your cheek,
you'd take my hand from your face
and place it over a rapid drum and say
This is for you.

Tell me if you wish it'd been this way.

Tell me if you ever think about our moment.
Am I wasting my time, holding onto this shell,
or should I let it go?
Would you watch it with me as it rolls on the river bed
and becomes forgotten?

fly into the clouds
along the wind and the birds
find her, my lover
she left me wounded, speechless
hope she can read your sweet words