Specks of white snow begin to
twinkle on the icy ground.
But July is not too far gone. One life,
one dream... melting from your
touch, disappearing through my fingers
as I lie on the sand.
Angels flounder in the sea with
their hair awash with salt
and tangled knots -
in the trees, woodpeckers with no
time left to call to their families
of the woe that awaits.
No sound made, we're hiding from
the way home. No need to be
found, we can't go back but
a longing to know the truth
is seeking a solace, a family
life beyond our dreams is
creeping towards the sun.
Don't make a sound, we have
many miles to stumble through.
Feel the truth and dance in the morning sun...
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