My heart was swimming
in words gathered by the wind.
My voice bounded
into a cloud-carried tomorrow.
My heart trembled
in the moon-swayed mirror.
Soft tears,
spilled with a stream of stars.
Isn't it beautiful?
If we could walk, hand in hand,
I'd want to go
to your town, your home, in your arms.
I dream of being
against your chest,
my body in your keeping
disappearing into the evening.
Words halted by wind are
a gentle illusion.
A tomorrow torn by clouds is
the voice of a distant place.
My heart that had been
in a moon-blurred mirror that flowed,
Those stars that trembled and spilled
cannot hide my tears.
Isn't it beautiful?
If we could walk, hand in hand,
I'd want to go
to your town, your home, in your arms.
My dream of your face,
that I softly touch,
melts in the morning.
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