The Ring

Tonight for me, the wind is a moaning lover
It howls through the stars as I lie in my covers
The black ocean of night ripples against the trees
The night is a-calling if you ever loved me

All the words I wrote from deep in my chest
And still I feel that to you I’m second best
A golden ring he gave her – O Fortune’s wretch!
Watching on I recount those regretful words:

There is no silent truth awakening
There is no coming of a promised dawn

And so I recount this sweetly sad tale
And search in the moaning wind’s whipping wail
In vain for the song of love’s nightingale
Who sings the stings of burning love, sweet bird

The smoke of all our whisperings
Now thin before his golden rings

Black is her hair, like a starless night
That streched across our great romance
That we tried to keep safe from strife
Till the ring broke the song of the trance

Febraury 9, 2003

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