Monday 3 September 2012

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What time does not wither
And age cannot decay,
Is your beauty made in silence
What words cannot say.

Though you oft roam asunder
Like a cloud without a home
Your steps, they always rhyme
Even when alone.

Seasons of summer
Seasons of fall
Deep in your eyes
I meet them all.

And when winter comes,
I beg to stay
Like a vagabond, with
Hope of being astray

What time does not wither
And age cannot decay,
Is your beauty made in silence
What words never say.

You’re the candle
I, the wind
You’re the song
Words can’t sing.

You might be everywhere
Anywhere, nowhere at all
In everyone, anyone
Big and small.

Tender and little
Crude and bent
There was silence when I met you
Silence when you left.

What time does not wither
And age cannot decay,
Is your beauty made in silence
What words cannot say.

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