A word of poetry not just of love
A word is not just a word
But a poetry of sweet sound
That no one has ever heard
But they have felt a whisper
A little spark of light
And a light in the dark
Of the path
That speaks of the roses
Inside of the butterflies heart
That became her story.
Anything else
Anything else
Could not ever tell
But the change of life
Treated me well
Left me in memory
And alone here to tell my story.
Waking up and looking for the sunlight
Nothing has changed
I am still the same age
Living the life through my stories
And waking up my heart
To the alarm
Clock of the day
Where my morning meets sunlight
And flying from moonlight seemed like
A visionary that made the art a dream.
The Twilight scrapbook of memories
The twilight called me over the phone
And pointed me to my contacts list
Where I made a scrapbook of the list
Of who was on my most wanted list
And the part of this story was my wish list
Just like the birthday candles on the cake
That blow out the fire where the universe grants my wishes
And steers me into the path where I join my dreams of forever.
Being part of your world
Wanting to be part of your world
Even if I am soon to be a hidden story
Trapped inside of a memory
Underneath the moonlight
Of the heart of the crystal.
Feeling the art of the paper planes
Feeling the wind with the butterflies
Of the moon that turned into paper airplanes
And then I called out pulling them back in
With my umbrella trying to keep the rain in
Without getting wet and staying dry
But keeping my heart from crying out
And seeing what has made of the world
Without the rose and the moon.
Paper Hearts
Paper hearts
Wrote down the letters
My love
And the dreams of the moon
Kisses the rose petals
Of love
And the stories that started the moon and the rose.
A word is not just a word but a story of poetry
A word is not just a word
But a poetry of sweet sound
That no one has ever heard
But they have felt a whisper
A little spark of light
And a light in the dark
Of the path
That speaks of the roses
Inside of the butterflies heart
That became her story.
The butterfly of my thoughts
Loving the sun
While loving the butterfly of my thoughts
At night so quiet they remain a mystery
All around the voices can be heard
Left to stay unsaid
And wrapped around the souls like a heavy heart
Of a mountain
Where the dreams are the flowers
And I am the dancing moonlight of roses.
Falling asleep to the pages of my dreams
Falling asleep
To the pages I have written
To my story of dreams
Where I come back and dream
Of every detail again
It makes me wonder how fond I am
Of all these beautiful memories.
Not coming back to come back
Coming back
Doesn't mean
You can see my face
Because I am not ready to come back
And see your face in reality
But in my dreams I rather see the story of us.