****** on the rice fields of Vietnam,
Where was God when his children wanted to sleep,
The burnt villages should make you question;
Is your love really too young to weep ?

(Grandfather’s murmurs – here to stay,
The woman I love wouldn’t have it another way.)

Life from the shores of incredible pain,
Your mother gave birth to shifting sands ,
A woman’s love should make you question;
Did god kiss her bridal hands ?

(Father’s advice – never fades,
Our love will outlast his coming decades.)

Early mornings at red-sacred dawn,
I still remember your un-spectacled eyes,
A mother’s prayers should make you question;
Why does God believe your innocent lies ?

(Mother’s beauty- touches all,
She wants you to sing this coming fall.)

****** on the rice fields of Vietnam,
Where was man when his brothers wanted to sleep
A squandered earth should make you question;
Is her love really too young to keep ?

(Grandmother’s pearls – here to shine,
I am glad I made you forever mine.)

If you were nineteen acts of my Broadway classic,

I would pause time to watch you make me proud,

And scribble poems on backstage passes,

On a different day, In a different crowd.


But When the notes are changing now,

On grand pianos of mice and men,

You’d still find me writing another verse,

On a different day, With a different pen.


Yet Beware the ides of march they say,

Even as they feast on your incredible smile,

But beyond the journeys of lost tenses

There will always remain another mile.

They told me she died.
So I woke up in the graveyard of my dead dreams,
Took up my trusted shovel,
And like a good old country lad,
Decided to dig her up.

They told me she died.
But I knew they had to be wrong.
Why, there she lay, as unattainable as ever,
Smiling smugly from her coffin,
Mocking me with her fake omniscience.
For Death, may be a great leveller,
And make sceptre and crown
Just tumble down,
But not so her beauty.

They told me she died.
But how could i believe them,
After knowing her wicked wit of Solomon.
With which all her life,
She didn't let death so much as touch her beauty,
For she hid it so deep within,
Veiled beneath the layers of toughness
And faded tee’s,
That even a soldier camouflaging her scarlet skin,
Would be put to shame.

They told me she died.
But they didn't bury her beside me.
But by another man’s side.
Because he was man enough to ask
What i should’ve,
And now she lies buried,
As his bride.

You're still there,
At the end of my fingertips,
Your taste is still there teasing my tongue,
Your sweet face,
Haunts all my dreams,
Your beautiful heart still has its strings,
Wrapped around mine,
Tell me how to let you go,
When everything about you,
Is still living in my chest,
Crawling through the tunnels of my mind,
And leaving soft but painful bruises, on my soul