When The Morning Comes

I’ll tell her when the morning comes
but leave her all the wonder
tell her of those city lights
whose spell shes under
my words will all sound hollow
and too old for her heart to follow
I’ll tell her of a girl I knew
no names or ages
then as mothers often do
I’ll start to turn back pages
and let her know I see her
but never try to be her
fight back tears
swallow fears and
be happy that she
is so thrilled by all she sees
and remembering how it feels
I’ll tell her when the morning comes
but now she’s sleeping
I’ll just hold her close and guard
the secrets she needs keeping
I follow her in sorrow
into a world I cant borrow