from ice to ash

a fragment of a ballad I'm working on...


the more I think of you
the less I dream of her
time heals all wounds they say
but only you can end the pain

the haunting fades to naught
but to what the shadows held
before I found my way.
now I have to say I will endure

that memory lies when Aphrodite cries is certain, yet.
even in the rain the lovers' pain brings soft regret.

the more I think of you
the less I dream of her
and all I thought I had that melted,
burned and turned from ice to ash

each time we touch, it gives me hope
that for all the blows we take, the ache
is not eternal just time for growth.
when with your kiss, in Spring I woke...


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.