To dance?
The oncoming storm,
All breezy bluster and
Quicksilver lightening.
You dance in my mind
All silken whispers
And subtle grace
You dance.

The clock is ticking—Listen
A fadded voice pleas
"Everything ends"

A burning sun must soon descend
The night is a shining sea
The clock is ticking—Listen

An old fluttering leaf ascends
Dried and broken as can be
Everything ends

Withered hearts can't mend
Oh, the loses they have seen!
The clock's tick is slowing—Listen

Melancholy ticks grow distant
A dreaded time is nearing
Everything ends

Oh, the inevitable end
They live, they die, they bleed
The clock has stopped—Listen
Everything ends

You have a heart made of beautiful gold
and a soul of stardust that'll never grow old.
There are sweet galaxies within your eyes
and your scars are constellations better than the sky's.
You're a walking universe so wonderful and sublime;
someone who'll remain important across all space and time.

I am from Home.

I am from hot baths in the summer and winter alike.
I am from a silver ring decked with a ruby.
I am from laughing faces and weeping hearts.

From Pilaf and Tabuleh.
From the lonely, and the love.
I am from music loud in my ears so I don't have to listen to anyone.
I am from late-night arguments and early-morning apologies.

I am from cousins and children
Staying in my home despite
Their heritage.
I am from Untitled Documents.
I am from Marisa and Ben. My namesake and her lover.

I am from hand-washing dishes.
From Mrs. Laird and Mrs. Tans.
From Eagle Crest.

I am from Volleyball.
From late practices
And broken limbs.

I am from the world.
From crushing decisions that don't matter.
From school-induced insomnia.

I am from the wind
In my hair.
Stars above my head.
Children in my classroom.

I am from England-so far away, and yet so near.
I am from Doctor Who and Sherlock.
My inspirations.

I am from Sobahn.
My friend I have never seen.

I am from swinging into the lake from a tire swing and a zip-line.
Dogs.
Stray cats.
Army games.

I am from fake battles and singing hymns in the shade of the hot summer day.
I am from Christian and Kira.
From red paint on the pavement-lying to me, telling me it is blood.

I am from my childhood.
I wish I could go back there.

I am from home.

'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
Little Amelia Pond asleep in her bed, with thoughts of a raggedy doctor
floating through her head.
Outside her window, there came a bright light,
'twas a light so bright that it lit up the night
And the sound of the TARDIS woke her up with a jolt
and with an excited smile she heard the thing halt
She ran through the house, past the mouse, past the tree
and she saw her old friend and greeted him with glee.
He was happy to see her, but there was sadness in his heart.
He brought her rare gifts, like VanGogh art.
They ate fishsticks and custard as the doctor told of tales never heard.
As the night went on the fun wore out little miss pond
The doctor tucked her into bed and told her more stories that danced through her head.

'Twas the morning of christmas
and the best gift of all
was the night full of memories and for years she recalled
her raggedy doctor until they met once more
But thats a story for another time, and then I shall write more.
Have a merry Christmas and a Happy Holiday
From The Doctor And Amy