she waited, and screamed in despair
"why can't it be different? it isn't fair!"
i feel like its over, it passed in a blur.
we've changed, and i miss who we were
"you should have been better" she cried
"and we could have fixed it, if we tried.
i'm sorry i hurt you, i wasn't prepared."
i stared at her, and wished that i cared.

i know there's nothing
that you could pick
that would cause the pain
when they say "he's sick"
until you hear their last,
and long for all the first.
of them all, from start to end
"im sorry" are the worst
it isn't fair, words alone
can take so much away.
without a word or two in turn
to make it all ok.
and so i'll offer my own
to say i'm sorry too,
until i find some better words
i hope that these will do.

when I was young, I hoped to be
a hero sailing sea to sea -
I dreamt of shining knights and shields;
of chivalry and battlefields.
I always thought I'd view the Earth
from far above, for what it's worth;
I wished I'd find a way to fly,
or make my own before I die.
but wishes fade with age and bend -
and all I want before the end
is just as hard to find, it seems,
as stars and knights, and hopes and dreams.

Butterfly
if I could float
or build a boat
to sail the silver sky,
i'd think it neat
and awful sweet
that you should flutter by

To float
and flit
and flap
and fly
across a starlit
starry sky,
would surely
really
rather be
a lovely thing,
it seems
to me.
To slpi
and sail
and swoop
and soar
through rainbow-rain
and clouds and more,
would surely
really
rather be
a tiny taste
of living
free.

When life is a dark and dreary night,
beneath the lost and lonely light,
from out a sad and silent moon,
just don't give up...
Tomorrow's soon.

when days are long and times are tough,
when storms are gray and sea is rough,
when breakers, aching, break anew,
just brave the wave and sail on through...
Find your boat and sail it.

behind the dark,
beneath the night,
below the ground and grave,
in pain - in plight
in candle-light
be strong
be true
be brave

perhaps today I'll get away
for just a little while -
i'll ride the bus and think of us
and of your seamless smile -
i'll build a boat and freely float
without a place to be -
a tiny ship to slowly slip
acros the salty sea -
i'll buy a horse and plot a course
for anywhere but here -
or take a plan and soar to Spain
to simply disappear.
no need to pack -
i won't be back,
but maybe, when it's through,
the world will say "you've had your day",
and bring me back to you.

If you should fray, or fall apart,
in any where or when -
I'll always try, with all my heart,
to make you whole again.
But if you choose to fall behind,
and break and shake to bits -
the day may come where I won't find
a single piece that fits.

I'll tower before them
with power and might -
with vision, precision,
perception, and sight.
The pride and the purpose...
my eyes, and my mind...
I'll reign as a king
in the land of the blind!

In April,
Come he will,
In May,
Sing all day,
In June,
Change his tune,
In July,
Prepare to fly,
In August,
Go he must!

I have a soul that flows,
and one that grows,
and knows.
a soul that,
as it mows,
sows, and stowes,
the growths, and knowths, of tomorrow.

Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
I'll draw a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use?
2B or not 2B?

All the woulda-coulda-shouldas layin' in the sun,
Talkin' 'bout the things they woulda-coulda-shoulda done.
But all those woulda-coulda-shouldas ran away and hid
From one little did.