Welcome to the land of silence,
throw your tear into the stream.
A secret valley for the secluded,
mute your own voice,
touch the earth with your essence.
And sleep in the middle of the highway

So this is where the spring hides,
a spirit from the past laying a rug of bluebells
And dancing in the meadow.
Peaceful with her world and her emptiness.
Exposed with no one to see,
A dove will sit on her naked skin and blend.

Fire’s burn in her heart
And passionate songs on the flute
scream through the air.
But she is never heard.
Nobody lives in her tree house world,
she sleeps in her pasture, and cries softly to herself.

05/02/2003

Posted on 05/01/2003
Copyright © 2024 Sam Roberts