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So pure’s the sky tonight, strange breezes carry echoes from afar;
what would it have been, hadn’t the spring of joy dried up
nor had the leaves fallen as men at the whim of fate:
autumn came, at last
we wrote our vows on water, pretending they’d be still,
we sensed the stars aligned and ruled a secret kingdom

No words could tell
the heights of bliss that we would climb
No hand could shape
the effigy of our beatitude

no rhyme could seize
the day that you were gone
and left me a world to wander through
longing for another glimpse of you.

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