Tuesday, February 08, 2011

I talk to the wind

Ships are moving over the water
Like notes flowing in time
expiring and conspiring
from sound conceived in mind

Splinters caught in wind
cast over a field aflame
seeded in embers
Ring out in fear

Calls and warning climb
from house to home
looking for answer
but ringing upon stones

Little ships sinking with water
burning houses in the town
Don't whisper a warning
just comply to be mine
were running out of wine

I'm yours for longing eons
but stay lets end this day
It's ours for your making

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