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fire.fine.water.wine.
Why change the way we walk
To dodge the scattered dying leaves?
(though they see themselves as finally free.)
let's not crush nor curse
their hopes between our toes.
And their last final fall spin
Slowing down,
kissing their orange
Foreheads to the ground.
Watch as they all will go,
A fire on the forest floor.
The heat to burn,
The need to learn,
From autumn's mistakes.
March showers April's little flowers,
But you have heard that before.
The lions and lambs will lie together
And last year's leaves
Become a small leaf's treasure.
Thanks to the overcast weather.
Thanks to the overcast weather
In a small stable, fair,
A widow sits in her rocking chair
And raises her lone cup in the musky air.
"to my lover, I toast,
three things only may I boast:
I've survived fire, watched my lover
Perish sweetly, as the flames
Rose higher than his rosy cheeks.
And I've to gaze at black and grey trees,
Innocent and unashamed with no leaves.
Glory unseen.
And I have you, O Wine!
From the dark plains of Spain
To drown my memories,
To release and dull the pain."
