Old scriptures of lust, forgotten and lost,
Buried by time, frozen in frost...

No more the winged birds that sweep,
Through the tree tops; soft and deep...

You are the thunder, to the mournful start,
The storm, which brews deep in my heart...

Strings of love, and not of twine.
Searching for what, he cannot find...

The smell hits me first,
freshly washed cotton...

When all things done are lost and said,
When troubles die and debts are paid...

The first time I saw you, I knew you were mine.
We stood together, in the dark we would shine...

You came into my life one day, so friendly and so...
For that I give you a poem, one that you can read...

Your wings are my spring,
Nostalgic and warm...

As the moonlight shines, it beckons the night,
Mirroring a cloudless fall of frosty air...

Random thoughts inside my head,
Sleeping now, the tears unshed...

This bracelet. My bracelet. You know, it reminds...