I am tempted to walk into the night
and look for you
who has always stood
on the other side of my fear,
waiting for me everyday,
carrying a flower of hundred petals
petals that wither one by one
like the clock that marks days not hours,
days that otherwise would have been too long
if something didn’t tell us
again and again
that not much time has passed
and not much time is left.
Though by the waters of sorrow
that reach till my chest,
I can tell that it would be too late
and too futile
even if we meet now,
when all the happiness
that we came with has been spent
by our imprudent youth.
But still even if it is late
I want to come to you,
Even if I am broken
I want to be yours.
Even if for a day.

all these words that
I have left unsaid,
will forever haunt me dead.

He was a good man.
He walks to her grave and frowns.
He begins to cry.

He used to know her.
He finds out the tears wont stop.
He remembers her.

He used to love her.
He gets on his knees and bawls.
He could not save her.

He was so happy.
He puts his face in the dirt.
He has no more time.

He walks away now.
He leaves his tears and roses.
He has nothing left.

Like the sweet lip I give to this world's tea,
You ice my very soul and complete me.

Like the hilly land of the south that runs red with the blood of the sun at its setting,
I'd love to watch that dark place in our distance shine bright with red of enamor.

Like the field and old country crannie I ran across in the freezing winter's day,
so id run through this yellow prairie looking for your heart to hold always.

Like the flowing rivers of fish and fully-bellied bears,
Comb my hairs that flow through the delta of your fingers and part it to see my eyes wishing for you.

Like the elk of pride lifting its proud head,
I love you is all that could be said.

Like the tall pines and red oaks peeking above the clouds to shake hands with God,
So will I to look above this cloud of smoke to see you staring back at me.

Like the crisp smell of the sea on the beaches of the Carolinas and Florida,
May this southern Soul take you across them to dance in the sea of stars only seen with you, uh-huh.

Like the twang' of our home state and the culture of complete estate over all,
I hope to one day stand tall and boot scootin' boogie my way into your heart.

All this boy is a' hurtin' and nothin' more, sweet sunshine tea of mine.
Wishing, he is I swear, for nothin' more, sweet thang of mine.

As he walked through a forest he knew so long ago,
He sees a withered oak.
A proud thing.
A proud memory.
A proud day.
A proud history.

And yet all he feels now is the darkness of the shadow it casts.
He sees the leaves the rain soaks.
He has no song to sing.
He has nothing to be.
He has gone no way.
He has her in his dreams.

The rain continued as his clothes get wet, smiling at the memory of their first kiss.
It was like this...thing.
He can’t say it another way.
It was something to see.
It was something to light their day.
It was something meant to be.

He sighed and sat down under the far reach of the branches and watched the drops float down slowly; watching them made him happy, and yet they made him sad. They reminded him of the way the were happy, then sad. He laughed at his deep, philosophical banter. Is this not like our love, my dear?, he thought. One moment you’re soaked to the bone and trying nothing more than to run away when all you’d want more is to rush and play in the mud with eachother like children? Hm...and when the cloud are done weeping and they’re once again light with joy, what becomes of us? We simply dry our selves and go on with our full lives again....
Although...if it were meant to be...we'd simply fly and run in the field and let the sun have its way on our skin, no matter how sweltering it makes us feel.

And with that his thoughts were clear as he sat in that knoll.
Under and on that withered oak.
Its leaves laughing with the memories.
Laughing at the two of them.
Sighing at the sight of them.
Praying for the child of them.

And with that rain, each drop gave life to the leaves.
That grand oak.
Withered under its memories
Laughing at its own roots.
Barely a look under mans boots.
And yet, still strong enough to give its support.

———————_————————__

She walked up to that tree they used to love.
And found him lying there.
His skin still so fair.
But pale in comparison of what it used to be.
So she played there with him. Laughing with the tears of the sky. At what they used to be. Then in each other’s arms, they die.

The sun shines, and a shadow under them begins to bloom, letting the sun do what it pleases on their skin. There will be no joy for them this time though; they ran their last the day before.