sometimes, the sadness steals away her heart. there's things inside her i don't, and can't, know: for though i love her, there's a separateness that closeness keeps, both precious and untouched. there are no words to cheer, no balm to heal: there's only presence: doing what we can and trusting that means something, in the end, since faith is what we have at hand to use.
When autumn comes, then you and I Can get away from all this mess: We'll sit somewhere, beneath the sky In blessèd, peaceful, idleness, And taste the wind, and smell the sound Of what it means to silent be, When there's no noise or crowd around, And we can just be you and me. When autumn comes, we'll find a way Into, out of, and off beyond; Inquisitive, and natural -- The grass, the sky, the leaves, the pond -- For somehow, in our daily-ness, We've left off much for little gain: When autumn comes, then you and I Can reason leave to find Our sane
within a secret paradise we gave our time and hearts to further our entanglement in duties, fits, and starts -- we touched the ceiling of the sky, that pure-blue canopy -- so young, and so unwise, in secret paradise. the shadows, once an aqua-green, gave way to dark and gray: we thought we'd never end, for there was always one more day -- but silence comes with separateness, and all eyes come to see the time is just a slice in secret paradise. the memory now lives on, but only for a little while; our paths are merely leaves we move for all our wit, and guile -- but still, such colors as can make a sweet day come to be are worth the timeless price of secret paradise.
summer flowers fields of envy days of worry time for healing
love so boundless spreading over: worth the effort, and worth the wait
the colors spread and we were free: the flying times for you and me
work together, and build a life: play together, and build a love
the sunshine brings its energy: the rain, though, brings our needed growth
a painted hurt a written joy creative ways to say and cope
