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Description
And I shall lay me down in the early hours of the setting sun
And there I shall lie as the leaves of the tree under which I can be found
Turn from green to gray then shadow players dancing in the wind,
I shall lay me down and wait and hope that this weeping heart will be undone

And as the night progresses and the dew is placed by tiniest of hands of field fae on the grass blades that my body bends
Then shall the true chill of realization hit me, he is gone, he is gone, no hope for me
Slowly the pain of the damp will soon seep into my bones but I shall nae move one inch
For ringing in my ears are his last words of defiance of our love and with new pondering my heart rends

And as the hours creep further on I find I am almost frozen to this meadow carpet
As eyes deep sea green scan what horizon can still be found tears sting more as no ship approaches
What am I without his touch? What do I do with the dreams we dreamt?
Chills ravage my body as the dew and wind combine to torture more a tortured soul left behind.

And my mind begins to wonder if I will really be missed, oh that thought, whose lips are by his being kissed
Nature works her this eve a merciless charm, what is this a shadow approaches.
He is tall, dark, with eyes of the same, he speaks, hark his voice is like thunder that starts the rain
His hand clawed he holds out to me as words enter my soul,"You always belonged only to me."

And I shall be forced to allow him to sit by me, for now my limbs are to heavy to make him desist
And in those few moments he sits close, leaning in, telling me all he knows of my love and whose arms he is in
Mercy flees in the power of evil in his repartee, I feel pieces of my heart being devoured in his icy grasp
Dawn will not come in time, nor will the sun be soon enough to thaw what this God Of Ice has begun

And I shall lay me down in the hours of the setting sun as the last sound I hear is not the gentle words of my love
but the harsh accusations of unrequited love and how he is laughing at the end of my wishing heart
For dawn comes in pastels of softest purple to pink then orange then yellow then white
Far too late for me, I lie frozen, on our hill, under our tree in a meadow we made our own

Alas, Alas, should he ever return I cast one last breath ,wish filled, out into the fleeting night, he will come - is it to much to hope and weep at my headstone.

K
10/14/05

I do not mind being alone. I mind being lonely.

Description
And I shall lay me down in the early hours of the setting sun
And there I shall lie as the leaves of the tree under which I can be found
Turn from green to gray then shadow players dancing in the wind,
I shall lay me down and wait and hope that this weeping heart will be undone

And as the night progresses and the dew is placed by tiniest of hands of field fae on the grass blades that my body bends
Then shall the true chill of realization hit me, he is gone, he is gone, no hope for me
Slowly the pain of the damp will soon seep into my bones but I shall nae move one inch
For ringing in my ears are his last words of defiance of our love and with new pondering my heart rends

And as the hours creep further on I find I am almost frozen to this meadow carpet
As eyes deep sea green scan what horizon can still be found tears sting more as no ship approaches
What am I without his touch? What do I do with the dreams we dreamt?
Chills ravage my body as the dew and wind combine to torture more a tortured soul left behind.

And my mind begins to wonder if I will really be missed, oh that thought, whose lips are by his being kissed
Nature works her this eve a merciless charm, what is this a shadow approaches.
He is tall, dark, with eyes of the same, he speaks, hark his voice is like thunder that starts the rain
His hand clawed he holds out to me as words enter my soul,"You always belonged only to me."

And I shall be forced to allow him to sit by me, for now my limbs are to heavy to make him desist
And in those few moments he sits close, leaning in, telling me all he knows of my love and whose arms he is in
Mercy flees in the power of evil in his repartee, I feel pieces of my heart being devoured in his icy grasp
Dawn will not come in time, nor will the sun be soon enough to thaw what this God Of Ice has begun

And I shall lay me down in the hours of the setting sun as the last sound I hear is not the gentle words of my love
but the harsh accusations of unrequited love and how he is laughing at the end of my wishing heart
For dawn comes in pastels of softest purple to pink then orange then yellow then white
Far too late for me, I lie frozen, on our hill, under our tree in a meadow we made our own

Alas, Alas, should he ever return I cast one last breath ,wish filled, out into the fleeting night, he will come - is it to much to hope and weep at my headstone.

K
10/14/05

I do not mind being alone. I mind being lonely.