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A
poem is never finished, only abandoned. ~Paul Val�ry
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You Are A Song To Me
YOU ARE A SONG TO ME YOU ARE THE SONG I SING MYSELF TO SLEEP BEAUTIFUL TO MY EARS LOVELY TO MY HEART SOOTHING TO MY SOUL THE NIGHT SOUNDS WHISPER OVER STRANDS OF SILKEN HAIR THE NIGHT BREEZE GENTLY KISSES CLOSED EYELIDS AS YOUR MUSIC FLOWS OVER MY NAKED BREASTS THE COMFORTING WIND SHIVERS AND SIGHS YOU ARE A SONG I SING TO ME WHAT BECOMES OF THIS BREATH OF AIR THAT CARESSES MY CHEEK? DOES IT SLITHER AWAY WHILE I SLEEP? WHERE IS THE MUSIC I HEAR IN MY HEAD? WHERE IS THE MELODY I YEARN TO HEAR? IS IT YOU OR A GHOST I SEE? FLOATING PAST MY STEAMY WINDOW COME INSIDE AND PLAY FOR ME SERENADE ME WITH YOUR LOVELY SONG GIVE ME WHAT I NEED YOU ARE A SONG TO ME SIGHING IN MY SLEEPING EAR.. raw || truth |