In thought of you, I quiver. These shaky hands, excited shivers. Dreams are sweet, but you are sweeter. Day is bright, but night is clearer.

In thought of you, I wonder. These fantasies I dare to ponder. Love is fair, but war is fairer. Loyalty is somewhat rarer.

In thought of you, I can’t decide if this is wrong when wrong’s so right. Just for today, won’t you be mine? My sweet, illicit valentine.

To me, love’s like an English summer, with teasing spells of loving sun and only then to, swiftly so, fall beneath the growing shadow.

Then, from the dismal pelt of rain that not so much as lightning yields, comes forth a rookie, eyes ablaze. But pride won’t dam the falling waves.

And soon cats hiss, dogs bark and howl as all descend toward the ground to douse and drown the rookie’s flame. That torch he held was held in vain.

The monotone of summer rain makes day by day the same mundane. Before we know it, swiftly so, we’re left knee deep in winter’s snow.

Yet come the darkness, we’ll remember the beauty of our English summer. Shadows pass, as lovers will, ‘tis but the sun that’s loyal still.

Is love a lie to which we must confess? A promise held till out of sight? These rings, these words and love affairs, but taint the truth and riddle reason.

Can faithfulness be held so dear when none but plan to try adhere? The laden truth, if so enticed, is every heart will have a price.

The havoc’s passed, and just as well. Departed loves; they pushed, I fell.

Too many strings, too many lies, too many frets and sleepless nights…

and yet this bliss is all too so. No occupation, I’ve thoughts alone.

I live, at least, without obsession, dream of love and not perfection. I’m wiser than before I fell; departed loves, they’ve served me well…

and yet this bliss is all too so. I sleep at night, but still alone. No heavy thoughts, but still I groan. No need to call, but still I phone.

I live, for once, without direction. Dreams are sweet but lack perfection. The scars I bare, they’ve tales to tell; departed loves. They pushed, I fell.

But now to live without regret, learn how to love and try forget those worried thoughts, those troubled woes, that caused this bliss to wither so.

No sleeplessness shall plague my nights now tangled strings have been untied.

I live, at last, with free desire, and dream the dreams that take me higher. I’ve made it through. I’ve conquered hell. Departed loves, they served me well.

Sweeping strokes of subtle splendour, touch this page with love so tender.

Day by day night by night, I miss her, miss her, miss her light. Tonight she too puts pen to paper; sweeping strokes of subtle splendour.

Naked, and yet fully clothed, I miss what I have come to know. She held my hand (I held her firmer). Touched my heart with love so tender.

Let her dream the pure perfection, dreams of love and sweet affection. Sweeping strokes of subtle splendour, weave these words with love so tender.