If I should die before morning,
while you live out dreams in your bed,
if I should die before morning,
while you produce acts in your head,
know in this moment, in sight of that morning,
A dreamer to weave from afar,
I thought of you in that moment this morning,
as death stole me from the place you still are,
and hope, in sky, like clouds throw shapes
shaped like hearts, like glass they break,
I kissed your head and looked again
once more my muse, my love, my friend
those dreams, on draughts, uplift away
on shooting stars a wish they say
I wish, once more, to you three words
they are hearts and lives not just nouns and verbs