Once Upon A Time and Place

Once upon a time and place
I saw a smiling face.
Arms took me in an embrace
once upon a time and place.

I was young and full of woe.
You didn’t even know –
you were my safe place to go
for I was young and full of woe.

Even as you held me tight
the day turned into night.
Darkness overcame the light
even as you held me tight.

Then your arms let go of me,
but I couldn’t see.
You said that we’re meant to be,
then your arms let go of me.

Once upon a time and place
I wore a smiling face.
Then a love did fall from grace,
once upon a time and place.

There is A Place That I Remember Well

There is a place that I remember well
though never have I seen its setting sun,
nor have I walked its streets of gold
or listened to a bird sing up above.
And yet I know its rivers run so clear,
I hear its babbling brooks and rustling leaves.
I feel its winter snow caress my cheek
as softly as the kiss true lovers seek.
My heart beats in the rhythm of the breeze
that gently flutters from a swallow’s wings,
and in my mind a summer has begun.

There is a place that I remember well
though never have I seen its setting sun.
But it is there, each time I close my eyes
and listen as the day is put to rest.
And one day I will find the way, I know
to memory of sweet and endless night.

Tell Me of A Summer’s Day

Tell me of a summer’s day
when the sunlight shone so bright,
chasing loneliness away
though the day still turned to night.

Tell me of a summer rain,
warm and soft as true love’s touch
that freed me from the searing pain
of longing for you far too much.

Tell me of the summer morn,
when the day broke on our love
that like budding blooms was born
out of something from above.

Tell me, when did darkness fall,
when the rain trurned icy cold,
why the blooms began to fall,
how our love could grow so old?

Tell me of a summer’s day
when a heart now turned to stone
can face the truth I dare not say –
even with you, I am alone.

Where the Sun Shines


A breeze caresses my cheek
and I hear waves breaking on a sandy shore.
Breathing deep the salty air,
I take one step
into a beam of sun.
And I know that it has shone forever.
I hear your voice
and I walk
until the sand gives way to stone beneath my feet,
and I turn
but behind me is only darkness.
I strain to hear
but no gentle breeze caresses my cheek
on which your voice can carry.
And so I walk
into the darkness
searching for that eternal sun,
though I may never reach the shore.
I will walk
until I feel the sea air blowing,
and hope you will be waiting
in the sunshine.

The Gilded Cage


The little bird watches
from a gilded cage.
songs of sunny days,
falling leaves,
pouring rain.
A cold wind blows the treetops,
and the little bird watches.
Her wings open,
but never does the wind lift her up.
And she sings on.
The gilded cage hangs in the window.
I listen
to the little bird’s song,
and my heart hurts.
Through the window
I watch,
in my mind
an endless summer.
The cold wind blows the treetops.
I raise my hands
to the windowglass,
though never does the wind lift me up.
And storm clouds gather.
No longer does the little bird sing.
And my summer sun
gives way
to an autumn of regret.



When the world begins again
I remember
dreams of springtimes past
blossoming in every petal,
bright and shiny
in the morning of forgotten past regret.
I cry
as the rain begins to fall.
Gentle though the spring rain glistens,
I remember.
I turn away
as the last flower rears its head,
and to it give the memory
to hold as I walk
and let it fade
into a bygone day.
I let that gentle rain
wash my tears away,
and never look back until the other side
where is revealed
a waiting summer sun.

On Spring and the Passage of Time

Im wunderschönen Monat Mai,
Als alle Knospen sprangen,
Da ist in meinem Herzen
Die Liebe aufgegangen.

Im wunderschönen Monat Mai,
Als alle Vögel sangen,
Da hab ich ihr gestanden
Mein Sehnen und Verlangen.

[In the lovely month of May,
When all the buds were blooming,
That is when in my heart
Love welled up.

In the lovely month of May,
When all the birds were singing,
That is when I confessed to her
My yearning and desire.]
– Im wunderschönen Monat Mai
, Heinrich Heine (trans. R.C. Ahlstrom)

May will soon be behind us, and the spring will soon make way for the summer. As the season draws to a close, I am reminded that there are so few true constancies in life. One is the passage of time. Every passing moment is gone, never to be felt, seen, touched again, reduced to the memory of those who experienced it. And though we remember, we can never go back.

Though spring is a time of rebirth and renewal, it is also a reminder that as we move forward into a new season, new year, new life, we also leave behind something that can never be felt in exactly the same way ever again. Though we experience the cycle of the changing of the seasons every year of our lives, never will we see the exact blossoming flower or spring rain again. Live every moment and cherish the memory, for with every new beginning comes an end.

In the Moonlight


In the moonlight
a shadow
growing as a pool of blackest night
spilling over.
A cry echoed
and then one more.
But silence reigned supreme.
I watched,
as the moon fell to the earth.
I reached out
one hand.
I did not catch it.
Through my fingers
slipped the light as water falling,
memory flowing
over the jagged rocks
of one mind’s Eternity.
No longer did I stand
in the moonlight.
My hand
but for the shadow that remained,
and ever always.

The Knight On the Hill


In a kingdom in the north there stands a solitary knight.
He sits atop his horse high on a hill.
He keeps one hand on his blade, always prepared to fight.
For his king, a foe he’d swiftly kill.

His free hand gently strokes the long mane of his brindle steed.
A teardrop forms so slowly in his eye.
His mind turns back to long ago, his last heroic deed.
He shakes his head and breathes a weary sigh.

Behind the knight a castle stands, once home of his dear king,
tall as the trees and black as starry night.
On his finger still he wears the royal signet ring,
but no squire has he by his side.

The castle turrets crumble and the moat remains dry.
No tapers burn in sconces, clear and bright.
Ivy clambers up the walls, bats through the towers fly.
Weeds choke out the early morning light.

In the great hall thrones sit empty, no court jester plays.
The kitchen sits cold with no oven fire.
No servants run on the long stairs all through the night and day.
In the chapel sits no jolly friar.

No longer does the brittle stone keep out the summer rain.
Bedrooms fill with winter ice and snow.
No horses nicker, eager, in the stable down the lane.
But the knight has nowhere else to go.

The knight will stand there waiting till his very last day.
In his heart, the kingdom always new.
“We won’t look behind us, dear one,” to his mount he says,
“but to our duty always remain true.”