You conjure the part of a whisper
ever moving yet yearning...

I sense something has altered within me,
Perhaps for the better, maybe for the worse...

And the world teaches us to climb one tree...
Daring to dream of anything else is said to only...

My love
you are the water...

I take for him the auburn leaves
basking in premature mists of December...

.
I am held...

The wooden house crumbles
underneath the weight of misery...

A time of anxiously preparing,
Awaiting the birth of Jesus...

Sorry...
I'm sorry for whispering...

It's not my burden
it's not my responsibility...

[When the sienna sun
bids its love to the quarter moon...

Paper butterflies hang from a thread
they dare me to abandon my teary bed...