Your head hidden beneath
Any bit of you you can stretch that far,
Hiding from the ensuing day;
In the quiet bustle of the morning rush
You can listen, drink it all in:
Hiding from you ennui day.
A hours trip outside, the rest of the day
A ghost, in the company of an old man,
In the silence of his ageing pride;
You lie there in your little ball
Making what you can and when,
Half asleep, only alive to the listening;
The long walks we take, a new face in the house,
Long grooming strokes; O the joys
To see your heart beat and you eyes start glistening.
I look at you and cry, sweet innocence,
That your years are short and empty,
My spirit breaks each time I leave:
I dream of changing my mind,
Love is never something life can truly ever fully...
We just don't have time to perceive.
Soon I shall be gone, sweet innocence,
I may see your angel face no more;
My tears start every time I leave,
To every time I return,
Through your worlds-end door.