The Ocean with Her Songs and Freedom,
is like a Rose in the Desert Tonight.
The Night with all Her beauteous Wisdom,
is holding the Sky like the Wings of a Kite.
The Moon.......in all its Regal Splendour,
is a Ghost serenading the Dark Skies.
The Clouds are praying for Rain and Thunder.
As Mother Earth moans out hollow Sighs.
I shall wrap, all My Dreams in a White Paper
and carefully tie them, with a Yellow Bow.
Then lay them among the White Lilies,
that lie where the Wild Berries Grow.
Night grows, from the death of the Evening
and carries the Stars beneath Her Wings.
Morning wakes up, to the Dawn of Sunrise 
and Nightingales, are all ready to Sing.

Of the road that had been left in haste
I was glad that my soul stayed the course
As the winter and my speeches never would
I never had been frost-bit by cold stares
O', the heat of glares unnerved me weary
I was hardly visible amidst trying times
The climes brought the dreary snow and many crucibles

It was the fire that melted the flakes
I distinguished myself from fakes
I know all that quakes
In my soul that takes less
As it gives away to the lakes
Of warm water as summer finally comes

Over the hills
nightingales sing
to the chime of bells
ringing across  
English fields.

There, the lovers lay,
admiring the beautiful
blue spring day.

Out on the blanket
they roll with laughter,
recalling old memories,
and dreaming of dreams after.

Her beauty, a treasure
one truly adored.
A life without her
he could not afford.

As the sun sets
behind the hills,
his eyes begin to
fill with tears.

He leans in,
for a kiss,
only to feel a
cold, hard cheek.
Pulling back with haste,
a cry, a scream.

He rolls with anguish
recalling same memories
without dreams after.
Dark clouds appear,
her hand not near.

A rose placed
at her head, underneath.  
The lovers lay,
separated from her
by six feet deep.