This time of year
When the children play and cheer. 
Praying for those angel tears.
Mother gray children white
Sending her kids down through the night.

Dream like they fly though the sky
Hitting your face reminding you of a
Cold ocean spray.
 
The trees slowly become an 
army of granite white statues
Still in the night.
 
A littel boy works on a snow man 
an engineer of this cold white city.
The snow compacts under foot 
Groaning as it is slowly squished.

The air bites with almost a metal taste
My breath comes out like a 
Dragons fiery blaze but cold 
as ice in a foggy haze.

The girl a lion in the snow
Waiting to strike with her ball of icy snow.

The smell of smoke promising a fire 
Comes from the house just around the 
Corner.

His hands were fluttering birds; paper-thin skin stitched together with cerulean veins clung to bones, accentuating the already unnatural length of his fingers.  They hung at his sides, writhing in a nervous agony - sweat glistened on their blushed palms.  Those hands held the moons of Neptune.  "Where are you going?" I asked, a soft echo.  

The young man's head turned and he pulled a sad smile, "Oh, nowhere, really."

There was an asphalt road along which I walked my childhood
In the warmth of the summers, in the warmth of careless feet
And strawberries strung on wild grass.
The juice of the sun on our cheeks dripped and
We were golden, rugged tar beneath our soles.
My feet were black in the summer.
A child, the sky over my head was too large,
A blue in which I lost myself should I look up.
So I watched the road.

The sun never set on us, but bathed us in the unearthly gold of night.
It washed away tomorrow, it washed away the day past.
It washed away sound but for the far-away buzz of birds and traffic.
The asphalt was always warm after the glow of the day,
And beneath my feet I could feel the tires of cars long gone.
Someday I’d be the driver, too busy to meet the road,
Too busy to walk down my old friend in the evening sun,
But that was far away and my feet were young.

Always by my side in these lifles times.
That cold summer night the moon full and bright.

She knows the pain of this heart 
And was there to stop the thought.
The thought that stabed my mind and hurt her heart.

She closed her arms around my wast
Keeping me in this place.
Keeping me from the dark bringing 
me closer to the dawn.

My life would not be the same 
If she did not love me in this way. 

Because of her love, I live today.

A girl with hair like the pitch black night. 
And skin like the bleach white moon.

Steping from the shadows Into the light.

Her eyes lit with a firey baze.
Sparkiling like the sunshine 
On the mornings dew haze.

Her eyes in this way holding my gaze.
Full lips pulled back in a perfect smile.
Laughing I'm sure at my astonished face. 

This image burned into my mind.
Like the brand on cattle marked forever. 
Engulfing me as my brain surrenders.

Draw your foul tongue
out of the depths of your sleep.
The day has fermented
on your breath.
Draw your torpid mind
to the surface of your skin
and feel my
electricity.
It’s late, and you *****
your words.
So you close your eyes and
heave out the day.
But in the morning,
when your tongue is light,
when your breath is easy,
you will touch your lips to my ear
and whisper something warm
and weary.

He - cheeks like apples flushed,
chilled with a cold of which nobody knew,

He - bent under an ancient sea;
eyes grey, mind grey, both slightly askew.

He knew.

A pause, his reality hovering with his step.
He leapt.

And even though he only fell,

I truly believed he flew.