Reasons
to Live

Your lovely hair, so soft and fair,
reveals a beauty beyond compare.
I know another has your heart,
and grief is tearing mine apart.

My only love, my only light,
my final hour draws near tonight.
Now death comes closer, by and by;
I cross my heart and say goodbye.

Beneath the ground I soon will lie,
a faint chill through my bones goes by.

I draw a heart from memory,
and all the while, I think of thee.
The heart that once was resting here
left its imprint in heaven clear.

The heart that now adorns the sky
was born from love—just you and I…
I draw it still from memory;
may it be more than history…

My heart is worn by pain and woe,
by grief consumed in burning glow.
Deep in my chest it bears the strain;
I hope it can endure this pain…

My friends all want to live and thrive,
I long to rot, no more alive…
Without you, life is grief untold;
no joy I feel—just bitterness cold…

Your gaze is known to me so well,
yet cannot break my wounded spell…
I fear your life belongs to my friend,
while mine will shortly reach its end.
Still at the bus stop I await,
in hope we meet again by fate…

Your friends will never understand
the feelings I can scarce command…
Within my poems, I confess:
you are my Romeo, no less.

I, poor Juliet, alone,
cannot find a place called home…
My heart has only one true home:
your arms, where all my feelings roam…

I went outside to take a walk,
where pebbles strewed the forest track.
Each little stone began to gleam,
like strands of hair within a dream.

Do not walk through woods at night,
I cry toward the heavens’ height.
A shadow black walks after me;
there is no way to make it flee…

Above me glows the moon so white,
a graceful fairy dancing light.

Gentle water, clear and blue,
lovelier than forget-me-nots in hue.
It hums and rushes through the vale,
then cools and burns until we pale…

Without it none of us can live;
without it, life has none to give…
Who sees it yearns to reach its shore;
who sees it wants to leave no more…

Gentle water, clear and blue…

Beautiful rose, so red, so fair,
who owns you now? Who has you there?
You lie here still, your silence deep,
as though you had gone off to sleep…

Who laid you here upon the ground?
Who placed you down without a sound?
Beautiful rose, you surely know,
yet not a word will you bestow.

You tell us nothing, nothing more;
your boundless beauty we adore…

Who could love a butterfly?
In moments, it will take the sky…
The butterfly has always been
the wildest dream a dreamer’s seen…

But what is happening there today?
Life turns to death along its way.
From deep within the snowy bed,
snake eyes stare with jaws outspread.

Now the butterfly is slain;
the world’s imaginings will wane…

I am lying in my bed,
angels gathered round my head.
They look down from up on high;
heavy silence fills the sky…

I lie here utterly alone,
beneath the heavy earth and stone…

My lovely eyes of deepest brown
keep turning there beneath the ground…
They wait here for the prince to stand
upon the blanket close at hand.

He stands upon it without fear,
not knowing what will happen here…
Only I know, all alone;
terrible darkness is my home…

The day again wears black attire;
now sleep returns as light expires…
The dew’s soft quilt will fall again
on moss and ferns and golden grain…

All creatures of the woodland deep,
all creatures of the fields now sleep,
and tend the wounds that ache so deep…

People too, by daylight worn,
lie down in sorrow, tired and torn.
And you, dear child, now go to sleep;
a dream will find you, soft and deep…

When daylight veils its weary face
and quietly night takes its place,
I take the inkwell in my hand
and write the secrets none understand.

About truths unknown to any soul,
about the “gossip” dreams unroll.
About words that set all sorrow free,
about things I’d pass and never see…

About a love by sorrow burned,
about a love fulfilled, returned…
About the dearest ones I know,
I speak in verses as they flow…