White Willow The Book Of Love
radiant pinpoints, they sting my hand
I grab a fistful, a gift for the breeze
who will carry them far and away with case
stars in my heaven, they turn and turn
like holy fires they burn and burn
and in their pattern my love is spelt
like a sigil of grace in the womb of space
ever as time goes on and on and on
these stars will burn forever
ever as time grows heavy-headed, wan
ever
ever as life goes on and on and on
my heart is yours forever
ever as life grows tired and forlorn
ever
