I don't know what you see.
The curves of these words, the flow of my lines.
They're not beauty.
But at least, I can say without fear,
That they're mine.

WHEN I play on my fiddle in Dooney.
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabuiee.
I passed my brother and cousin:
They read in their books of prayer;
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.
When we come at the end of time
To Peter sitting in state,
He will smile on the three old spirits,
But call me first through the gate;
For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle,
And the merry love to dance:
And when the folk there spy me,
They will all come up to me,
With "Here is the fiddler of Dooney!"
And dance like a wave of the sea.

Tripping across a pastel canvas
Thoughts explode in color bombs
Minds melt into spreadable paint
The masterpiece is complete

I saw this coming
so long ago.
Your eyes
told me so.

If only you knew
How I truly feel
If only you saw
through my facade

I hide out of fear
of what you might think
of what you might say
reading you is so hard.

We lie to each other
so very much
shocking to know
I know.

I'm terrified to
open up my feelings
for you.
To you.
Afraid, so afraid.

I know my heart
and it is true
It knows I have
Always loved you.

A crane
Shading in the evening twilight
Trails its smokelike wings.

The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the trouble of her laboring ships,
And all the trouble of her myriad years.

And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves,
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.