Pigeon Mail
The ship didn't sail, we were left on two different shores, counting days.
The hills are untouched, and my goal out of sight.
I couldn't even make you aware of the plan I had in my mind,
I robbed you of a certain delight.
And deep in there somewhere, there’s a valley;
we would've built a home in and lived the rest of our days
in futile inconveniences of the early morning mist,
or shivers caused by a shadow cast upon us by the snowy whites.
Wouldn't it have been better if we just had to worry about the unsheared grass
instead of keeping ourselves uptight,
without the other in sight?
Do you crumble in bed, let it go and give in sometimes?
I unendingly wish to speak out loud to you,
be certain for once and commit to bringing above you a shade ,
and cover you from the sunlight that's been pushing you down into the ground.
There's this thing that keeps us apart, do you feel it too?
I see a way out and towards you, but will you hear if I call out now, from afar?
I fear you might never come back if I reach out.
I will wait and come back when I've set a good-enough face to fool you;
then tear it in front of you once I have an opportunity to stay.
I used to think, after a few dreams that didn't work out, this one would.
Turns out you can be wrong and the two of us might just have to count down every day,
and put up a strong face, as they say.