Edward was one fine lad,
When in his youth his everyday
was in ecstasy flowers clad
Until he ran away.
To the woods where every song-bird sang,
A different song of some different land.
To an eager ear those moments seemed
to take all pain away.
In those moments where squirrel ran
to a different branch or a wooden ranch
Time seemed to pause, he did not think or sway,
How would he find the way?
A wandering soul young Edward was
Not homeward bound or going love's way.
In those woods were wonders found,
He could stay there watch them at play all day.
A deer approached young Edward's way,
And dear she was to him, her place
could not be just out there so in
to his heart she made her way.
And they pranced along all their way,
deeper into the woods, their place
was still not found, out there it lay
Together, they ran away.
One fine morn' when sun still lay
in his slumber's nest - the break of day.
Young Edward woke to find that his
sweet dear had ran away.
Entangled in so many thoughts,
Young Edward seemed now really lost.
Till 'it' broke on him(not day!):
that why he ran away.
Sweet footsteps! those that gently lay
to sleep most evil thoughts of day.
His dear returned to him and they
Were not for long away.
And so it ends, this tale today.
of loving, loathing, sways of days.
And it burns my bleeding heart to say,
-From her he ran away!
