A Cage To Hold My Dreams
More And More
You are more and I am more now,
today, than without each other we shall
ever be again. You make my thoughts
want to jump up and sing and I can
stop you from ever growing old.
The sound of your voice and the touch
of your lips on mine have their equal
in the tender lines of a sonnet,
in the delight of a sunny spring morning,
in the soft rustle of the sea
on a jagged, welcoming beach.
The best kind of love is one which
grows naturally, slowly, unseen,
without making a noise, like the roots
of a flower bedding silently into the earth,
with no promise of the glory to come
To me your are friendship and love,
excitement and tranquility, tumult and
repose, angel and sinner. You are
autumn leaves, sparkling ear-rings,
crazy bent sticks, ferns and bluebells,
beautiful darkness, tears on the face
of a clown.
When I laugh you leap from my throat,
when I cry you trickle from my eyes
you are above my head and below
my feet, ahead of me on the cliffs,
beside me on the flat golden sands,
thoughtful, joking, mysterious, skipping
between the waves, pulling my hair
and running away laughing.
I yearn to make myself visible to you
when we are apart, to lift you when you
are down, to fuel your imagination,
to have you look for me in a crowd
to see your eyes sparkle when we meet
and cry when I have to go.
Ballymacrown 090303
today, than without each other we shall
ever be again. You make my thoughts
want to jump up and sing and I can
stop you from ever growing old.
The sound of your voice and the touch
of your lips on mine have their equal
in the tender lines of a sonnet,
in the delight of a sunny spring morning,
in the soft rustle of the sea
on a jagged, welcoming beach.
The best kind of love is one which
grows naturally, slowly, unseen,
without making a noise, like the roots
of a flower bedding silently into the earth,
with no promise of the glory to come
To me your are friendship and love,
excitement and tranquility, tumult and
repose, angel and sinner. You are
autumn leaves, sparkling ear-rings,
crazy bent sticks, ferns and bluebells,
beautiful darkness, tears on the face
of a clown.
When I laugh you leap from my throat,
when I cry you trickle from my eyes
you are above my head and below
my feet, ahead of me on the cliffs,
beside me on the flat golden sands,
thoughtful, joking, mysterious, skipping
between the waves, pulling my hair
and running away laughing.
I yearn to make myself visible to you
when we are apart, to lift you when you
are down, to fuel your imagination,
to have you look for me in a crowd
to see your eyes sparkle when we meet
and cry when I have to go.
Ballymacrown 090303
