Are we really that easy to be influenced?
For our feelings to be canceled out just because someone said so?
Was it that shallow — to be easily moved by the waves
that drifted us apart?

Or was the want never really enough
to withstand the waves?

We were just a stick in the sea,
waiting to get back to land,
but thrown instantly —
as if there was never a foundation to stay.

They hurt their Love, and she forgave them,
All their fears and their whim.
And threw herself as onto a scaffold
To save them both, and not her or him.

They didn't take care of Love, but could be
More merciful, tender and kind to her.
She gave them happiness and so much charity
Up to the last day, while they were with her.

They killed their Love so bitter and wildly!
They ribbed their Love. They burnt her all,
With all their wishes, dreams and chances,
With their faith in Love in whole!

They forgot their Love. They simply buried
Their tender Love. And she went away,
Without 'Goodbye', remained as a shadow,
Irretrievable, lost, forever, noway...

You say "Let's escape the cares of life,
And together we'll do wondrous things;
Dream along with me . . . what partners we'll be,
Wild and unrestrained, we'll spread our wings"

I say "I'll be daring, not foolish,
We musn't fly too close to the sun;
From Icarus I learned we could get burned,
For some things just shouldn't be done"

When you say you'll take me to heaven,
You mean sky-diving?  O . . . how exciting . . .
Sounds a bit manic, may cause some panic,
And maybe a bit of nail biting

What? Now deep-sea diving sounds thrilling?
Do you mean down to the ocean floor?
What a suggestion!  I have a question:
Have you ever done this before?

Now you're beginning to frighten me,
Isn't it time we both thought this through?
I'm not a coward, but I'm being devoured
By doubt, so here's what we could do:

We could climb that hill and count the stars --
A world of wonders awaits us above;
Or . . .  since it's so late, let's end this debate . . .
Why don't we stay home and make love!

A story unfolds in her eyes,
the little runaway recites,
depth in an iris of secrets,
halcyon days and sapphire nights.

Release the words dearest youngling,
bleed the emotions you regale,
let the narrative entice time,
weep the history of your tale.

She blinks and the page slowly turns,
another chapter taking shape.
The story unfolds in her eyes
and lids close as she seeks escape.

I'm just a sparrow
longing for sky
and if I had wings
I could fly.