These are just paper words
This is nothing more than an
electronic graveyard whose
resurrection awaits your call
Dried ink scorned by the endless
ticking of the clock
When shall these symbols of
life and love rise from the ashes?
Where are the wings that fly me
to your door?
How long must my passion endure
this black grave of silence?
Step out onto your terrace and
breathe the velvet night
Let down your hair and remove
your robe for surely as the moon
slips accross your secret dreams
my hands shall be upon you, and
you shall lie limp in my arms purring
the sweet moans of stardust