I write based on heart. I love based on thought. I think based on truth.
If I don't hear the voice of the songbird, Before receiving a boon of hope, My soul starts to ask: When to feel? How to cope?
I don't really know who's been listening, Or who's dared to speak. Yet, something inside me awakes, Something so wild yet so meek.
Like a song or a vivid dream, Imagination stays close it seems. Its patterns, woven and embroidered well Always have good stories to tell.
I would spend every day, Wondering if I can stay. I would wait for you to call. Maybe you'll see me; or not at all.
All my memories in winter came, Some good, some bad, yet all the same: Smiles, good fun and conversations Didn't make peace with countless expectations.
Across every screen, and underneath the details of every scene, the dancers in pictures make their moves heard. I have watched so many over the course of so many years,
One day, you approached me and said, "Wouldn't it be better for you to wed?" I laughed and said that wasn't quite fair
When I'm by myself, I hum a little melody. Sometimes it's sweet, so the taste of strawberries lingers for just a little while longer.