On the Page

Follow
The flight of the north moving birds
Steady
The echo, the great moving herd
They fly through the night
Fill their wings and their sights
With cold air and pale shadowed moons
Oh lover, kid you not
Though we promised a lot
I must fly from you
So hold me
Sing me to sleep
On the crest of a late breaking wave
And write me
Into your thoughts
I’ll be safe with the words on the page
Shadow
The light plays its own little games
Dream world
Its own silent claim to remain
And it’ll follow you still
Through the streams and the hills
And remnants of gold autumn leaves
Oh lover, you can walk
But your shadow still stalks
From between the trees
So hold me
Sing me to sleep
On the crest of a late breaking wave
And write me
Into your thoughts
I’ll be safe with the words on the page