Winter’s Ballad

you could be the lyric that I never wrote
you could be the nectar fawning on my tongue
you could be the feather against my cheek
you could be the warmth on my lost face
you could be the song that repeats in my mind

And in the morning chill, I can taste the harmony off your skin
And in the brisk moonlight, I can hear your symphony burn from your lips

you could be the melody that awakens me
you could be the lily I see in my holy dreams
you could be the breeze I never forget
you could be the fear that I have forgotten
you could be the song that repeats in my mind

And in the morning chill, I can feel your poetry
in the chorus of my weary soul
And in the brisk moonlight, I can recognize your violins in the orchestra

you could be the instrument that sparkles
you could be the goodbye that is never uttered
you could be the unspoken and endless limerick
you could be the sorrow that turns into halcyon
you could be the song that repeats in my mind

And in the morning chill, I can watch you play the acoustic guitar whispering your poetry
And in the brisk moonlight, I can see pieces of myself you savor in your tragic song

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