Thursday, 26 March 2009

My Lady's Home

In my lady’s home, the curtains dance.
They whisper as they reveal
The sun they hide.
While summer sleeps in
The playground of her youth,
And remembers the lines racing
Through her smile.

She needs no armour for
Battles in her dream.
She needs no shelter for pictures,
Of childhood in the rain.
She never knew any spells for little miracles,
Like toy soldiers and pencils that defy shape.

In my lady’s home, the trees sway
And in the moonlight, she says
They come alive.
While she gazes outside the window
The breeze plays with her dark, dark hair
Her eyes mirror a city
Shining in the night.

She needs no words for the songs she sings.
She needs no reigns
For a heart untamed.
And why pray today
For a better tomorrow?
A silent hymn never broke our chains.

And sometimes in my lady’s home
I hear the sounds of freedom
The breaking of the waves
Rising of the sun.
And I become a slave to all I’ve seen
To the beauty in her eyes
When the day’s begun.

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