Refuge

The storm, the winds, the wrath; all else came by.

Along the shore, along the coast we go.

Yet winter came to burn through my plateau,

My field of rye, my ship to sail at sea.

How is it that the storm is not yet near,

May clouds of gray begone, may spring soon rise.

Oh love, come close, oh love, and clear this storm.

You are my home, my dear, my ark; safety.

And through this flood I simply stare at stars.

Perhaps those bulbs are just your eyes, yet ash

Under my mind and thoughts is not the cause. 

Must he who knows such fear begin and fall.

Nothing could say, suggest, you were a net,

And that you’d catch me below with such care.

And that in you I’d find such warm shelter.

Until I must, I choose to stay and plea.

Know that I did not know to follow in;

Red azaleas and paths did seem to lead,

Roads made for me, to go away, the air

So cold, it ate at me, I must come here.

Safe here with you, and then I knew, that grief

Or pain, I must become a guard, like you.

End without tears. End without rain. A frog

Ends with a croak. My end, my truth; your love.