A lark still sings and whispers in my ears
Of days when valid happiness still ran
Rampant across our lives without a single fear.
That time would separate two conjoined hands.
Yes, singing still, ever willing, remind
Me with your harmonic tunes of ethereal songs
That haunt my soul, of being left behind
Like the memories of love, like our first kiss.
What fate awaits this broken, lonely soul
Who waits for the lark's tune to set him free?
Do I wait for you, lark, to make me whole
Or must I suffer for eternity
Alone to think and never hear you sing
About my past kept under your wings?
