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These are the days when my heart can’t speak and my days pass by in a fog. At night I look to the sky for her flame and she shows me, up through the pines, she’s the burning harvest moon tonight. Do you see how she shines like the sun? She shines in the night just for me.                She leads me to the edge and whispers like a lover in the dark, she wants me to burn just for her. My harvest moon she seems so close I reach up to touch her but she’s too far away,  she’s so far away but Oh, how she burns so bright!           Naivety’s gotten the better of me           she’s not the burner she’s the “burnee”           and if we met we’d burn white hot           we’d melt like a ******* supernova           but then we’d die           My beautiful white harvest moon           and I, we know what to do to get by           We know what needs to be done           Shall we close the buckle in the door?           Shall we swallow the white gold and pearls?           No, not likely, instead           run to her at midnight           in the bright white light,           climb upon the rail between           ocher beams on Golden Gate           and look up.           She seems so close.           Look up!           I reach for her slowly           Look up!           I reach for her softly           Look up!           slowly           softly           I step to the edge and fly home.
0
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
See How She Shines Like the Sun
These are the days when my heart can’t speak and my days pass by in a fog. At night I look to the sky for her flame and she shows me, up through the pines, she’s the burning harvest moon tonight. Do you see how she shines like the sun? She shines in the night just for me.                She leads me to the edge and whispers like a lover in the dark, she wants me to burn just for her. My harvest moon she seems so close I reach up to touch her but she’s too far away,  she’s so far away but Oh, how she burns so bright!           Naivety’s gotten the better of me           she’s not the burner she’s the “burnee”           and if we met we’d burn white hot           we’d melt like a ******* supernova           but then we’d die           My beautiful white harvest moon           and I, we know what to do to get by           We know what needs to be done           Shall we close the buckle in the door?           Shall we swallow the white gold and pearls?           No, not likely, instead           run to her at midnight           in the bright white light,           climb upon the rail between           ocher beams on Golden Gate           and look up.           She seems so close.           Look up!           I reach for her slowly           Look up!           I reach for her softly           Look up!           slowly           softly           I step to the edge and fly home.
v_V_v
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v_V_v
62/M/American
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
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