Cover the touch wandering in and out
of the brightest tides of time
because  the splendor of diamonds
will run away
leaving you with empty hands that sigh.
Let your voice light everything
that shakes your blessings,
so that you may live,
continue standing
never hide.

Count the stars in silence,
get lost
in their features
as you dream of holding hands
with the tides of time.
You will find yourself in flight
over roads that meet years
full of deep eyes
with no tears.
Countless thoughts you will treasure,
raining down
in perfect rhyme.

Bid farewell to your trust in wealth
it can die before your eyes.
Cover the touch
of the brightest tides of time.
Count the stars in silence
when you fly over the roads
of your memories.
A strong breeze
will blow into your thoughts,
sweet
as the finest wine.

Flowers are hung over the voices
where hope is not denied.
A story of unimaginable innocence
has been embraced
and now sings a melody
of a perfect smile
that has become one
with the skies.

Life laughs and takes flight
while violins play
for the stars,
chasing storms of fear
until our mouths speak its words
no more.
We wait with doves
we feed by hand
as we rejoice
on golden shores.

The depth of forever
knows
that no sadness
shall make waves or leave symbols
in our minds
that cannot fly away.
Together we will celebrate innocence
rippling
through our days.

I will be in the valley
where the sand meets the tree of fire
and walls that close in
do not exist.
My arms have become part of the stars,
when I walk they enfold night
with a web
encircling a kiss.

My heart contains a spirit of love
I obtained from the sea,
when my skies were filled
with all that I know.
I am here in the valley in between time
and the place where the tree of fire
still glows.

Come and take my hand
when your morning is cold,
until all that is left
is how you remember me.
Then, when you look into the glass
where your face was alone,
I will always be there
to see.

When you found pleasure
walking on the bridge of night
you did not breathe in the eyes that cried.  
You gave your heart to the dreams of midnight
all for the want of sighs.

You lived beside the cause of never
in a garden beautiful as the reasons why.
I never mentioned the winds of all your years,
always trusting,
one day you would fly.

You searched for sleep
by haunting ways that no tear
first had been. Time passed
left you singing an endless song
of dreams of midnight on the bridge again.

Your world had no time
where rain fell in crystal showers.
So in vain you burned to become part
of the skies that whispered words of honey
into your every hour.

When you found pleasure
walking on the bridge of night
you found the hand of sorrow.
You gave your heart to the dreams of midnight
while the eyes that cried,
found your tomorrow.

The moon hangs above two lovers
never fading
from all they want.
Their lips speak a language
of their own.
There need be no explanation
of the urges articulated
between them,
twisting and turning as the misty morning
makes itself known.

They have been pulled under waves
that crash through their fingers
and linger on their tongues
as love.
Altering how they hold each others heart
within the soil of their being,
worn as a scent displayed as beauty
that can only be
from heaven above.

A walk of response places in full view
conversations that cannot
be denied.
Their hearts overflow with sweet passion
face to face,
remembering how the moon hung sweetly
singing stories of adoration
above them
never fading
from this precious place.

If ever there were no secret depths
inside the corners
of a heart,
perhaps lips would not
whisper words
with no preconceptions.
We could paint the air we breathe,
gentle colors that softly speak
to the mind
in a misty lullaby’s reflection.  

If we could swim within our words
touching gray areas
with kisses of time
perhaps, we could gather waves
to last throughout the years.
In the dark of night,
our hearts' would blush,
as they existed side by side
on the edges
of our atmosphere.

Wherever our hands desired to wander,
unnoticed they would never be,
flaming winds stirring
precious hours.
Once again, we could sleep on beds
of soft words raining down
into all of our emotions
and dream
in poetic showers.

You are a perfect branch
descending
from yourself.
I have been waiting
at your roots,
trying to find myself.  

Which part of your trunk
do I stem from,
I cry out to the moon.
Am I not a part of you
whose flowers
are in tune?

I am sharing needful moments
full of sensations anew;
becoming naked
with each breath I take,
singing a song
of truth.

Staring into forever
my heart pounds
with hopes and dreams.
I am waiting at your roots,
with beauty bursting
at my seams.

You are a perfect branch,
no need to conform.
I am here
serenading your roots
to become your flowers that adorn.