Under the golden maple tree,
nestled in fields of clover, green;
across a meadow of flowers -
that's where my dreams are seen.
Along a trail of fallen leaves,
beside the clear cold streaming brook;
you'll see the dreams I have -
but you must carefully look.
You cannot gaze,  then say,
"I cannot see a thing" -
you must know what dreams look like,
and what such dreams will bring.
Look very close and you will find,
the dreams my heart do hold;
seize the moment and the dream -
if you would be so bold!
Under the golden maple tree,
against the earth so green;
across a meadow of violets,
that's where such dreams are seen.
Along a path of scattered leaves,
beside a fast flowing stream;
look close, look hard,  - you'll see
the reality of my dreams.

There are no roses in this garden blooming,
they've withered and died on their stalks;
like the flickers of love that we had,
when we started stopping our walks.

When the kisses gave up their warmth,
when the touches soon became brief;
and embraces were often forgotten,
in various stages of grief.

There are no flowers in this garden growing,
just the tangled masses of weeds;
that perished with our troubles,
that ceased, just like our needs.

When the silence became the norm.
when our eyes looked the other way;
and the nights became too long,
for anything good to stay.

There are no roses in this garden blooming,
only a barren plot;
adrift in memories,
of bitter unanswered thought.

How many loves can one man have?
is there a quota on the heart?
is there a barrier to love,
that keeps them all apart?

The mind does not keep tabs,
on the stirring of a soul;
on the spirit of a touch,
that tends to make us whole.

The heart is broken many times,
by thoughtless words and deeds;
the sadness and the pain remain,
not what the body needs.

Yet, once more, the flame burns bright,
and the soul meets someone new;
suddenly,  the sorrow's gone,
and we begin anew.

How many loves can one man have,
before the curtain falls?
before the race is finished,
before the heartbeats stall?

Where would I be without your love Lord?
seems it took forever, until I accepted You;
through the endless trials and tribulations,
You were with me. You saw me through.

Your the only one, I can truly call a friend,
You-the only one that's never let me down;
earthly friends, they come and then they go,
but I know that You, will always be around.

I will stay obedient to your truthful ways,
I will sing a praise, morning, noon and night;
without Your grace, the  darkness covers me,
I eagerly embrace Your Word and shining light.

Man has failed at life, and of trying to be great,
he has turned his back to God and all His ways;
alienated himself to God's commandments,
now, he's being punished all his earthly days.

Forgive them, for they know not what they do,
they are blinded by the evil prince of night;
they hear, but they don't truly understand,
against the pawns of Satan, we must always fight.

You told me that you loved me,
I told you that was good;
but you never said goodbye,
like I thought you would.

You told me I was beautiful,
I laughed and said, "All right";
but you never said, "I'm leaving",
when you walked out in the night.

You said we were forever,
I smiled and said, "Okay",
but you never said "adieu",
when I thought that you would stay.

You said I was your treasure,
you said I was your prize;
but now I'm by myself,
left sorting out your lies.

You told me that I mattered,
we were a perfect fit;
but now I know the truth,
you were but counterfeit.

What's the use of love,
when his words just leave you shaking?
when you shiver in the night,
because you're heart is breaking.

What's the use of kisses,
when they are just a peck?
when you wonder he's been,
and you're life is one big wreck?

What's the use of hugs,
when they're just a quick embrace?
when he's always in a hurry,
and you can't stand the pace?

What's the use of dreaming,
when you know he will not change?
when he has no time for you,
when he is acting strange?

What's the use of love,
when he's driving you insane?
when he doesn't give a ****,
if your life goes down the drain?

I remember my first love,
she came without a song;
no fanfare in her entrance,
but I saw in her, no wrong.

In time my heart was captured,
she was lovely and pronounced;
I was smitten and bewildered,
as my desire pounced.

For twelve years that it lasted,
the cup of love just flowed;
but came the day of reckoning,
we paid back the price we owed.

Love falls too hard for lovers,
when they drift and crumble;
they're left without an anchor,
too proud to say they're humble.

Now, first love's but a thought,
recessed   far in my mind;
as the birth of love is magic,
so is the ending, too unkind.