Speak to me, in sounds and in words,
Let me see, clearly an explosion of birds,
From the thicket,
From the bush,
From the field and scrub,
                                                                            
Sound like thunder, flash like lightening
Let me touch, every spoken drop of rain,
From the clouds,
From the trees,
From your eyes,
                          
And if I may,
brush those tears away,
from your lips,
with my own, or...my fingertips.

What if you don't cry?
What if you don't dream?
Then I will shed enough for two,
Hold you close, if you trust me too,
Let you sleep so deep, so sound,
That peace will be your comforter,
                     as I wrap my arms around,

and hold you gently dear,
so that once you wake up,
you may brush my tears,
those, happy, foolish, tears away.