And Still Soul Sings - 0246 - Current Version
Is soul's pure voice stilled, vast vision spilled despite
heart's hidden beauty? Hesitant, soothing sting,
stumbling, humble hand sends offering
to show true flow, not stillborn, dimmed delight.
Symphony should spirit sweep, cleave tight,
touch friendship's tendrils, letting loose wound spring
to free the wealth of tenderness within.
Forswear forebodings for swift arrow's flight,
aim feathered well, refutes pride ride to fail.
Why should stored Future pale before sore Past,
feelings forlorn, torn, gusted by ghost gale?
Beyond the pale, once outcast, heart beats fast.
Soul peaks, speaks sweetly, song's strong beauty deems
hope turns new leaf, spurns grief, scope answers dreams.
(16 February 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
And Yet You Sing - 0246 - 2009 Version
Is pure voice stilled, vast vision spilled despite
heart's hidden beauty? Hesitant, soothing sting,
stumbling, humble hand sends offering
to show true scope, not stillborn, dimmed delight.
Symphony should spirit sweep, cleave tight,
touch friendship's tendrils, letting loose wound spring
to free the wealth of tenderness within.
Forswear forebodings for swift arrow's flight,
aim feathered well, no longer's doomed to fail.
Why should stored Future pale before sore Past,
feelings forlorn, torn, gusted by ghost gale?
Beyond the pale, once outcast, heart beats fast.
And yet you sing so sweetly, song hope deems
may turn new leaf, spurn grief, to answer dreams.
(30 April 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And Yet You Sing - 0246 - Initial Version
Is this voice voided, vision silenced spite
its pregnant beauty. Paling, stumbling
hesitating here, an offering
I've ventured though it stillborn seems tonight.
Sweet, I would sweep your soul to hold you tight,
touch friendship's tendrils, letting loose the spring
to free the wealth of tenderness within
despite forebodings, - for the arrow's flight
aim feathered well, tonight seems doomed to fail.
Why should the Future pale before the Past,
feelings forgotten, tossed before the gale?
Beyond the pale an outcast heart beats fast.
And yet you sing, and so the song it seems
may soothe a soul which still believes in dreams.
(25 April 1989)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Theopathy
Evening memory,
whisper from your sweet flower sight,
as birds float delight.
World beauty,
sow some sweet simple spring season,
sky and sun without end.
Things combine
And seem to make little sense
When the great Beauty is bold
Singing its own song intense...
Sensations and seasons are best
When sowed in the simplicity
Of the pureness of poetry.
The dancing desert does delight
In the epiphanic voice,
Crying in the wilderness
Calling in the heart
Pleading in the mind, and
Claiming in the soul.
Beauty is the mysterious memory
Of what once was... and, by grace,
Shall someday return.
Known, unknown,
Wild, free, deep and true...
Nature speaks of
Gives hints toward, and
Causes contemplation for
What we know we barely know
And yet craving after
Do not understand...
Natures cryptic call
Seizes the soul and hungers the heart
Of all who willingly hear, and quietly listen
To the Voice
Crying, crying, and crying tears of longing
Throughout our own wilderness trek...
Sunrises to find,
softly speak visions in light,
as butterflies show freedom of flight.
Universe magnanimous,
moons and stars brilliant to send,
deep divine eternal hope from the final true,
Friend.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Started As A Seed
My love for you started only as a seed when I first look upon your beauty.
Now my love has grown as strong and tall as a mighty redwood tree. I loose my breath each time I look upon your beauty, And how your beauty touches my heart and soul. Your beauty warms my heart like the sun on a cold winters day. I know God truly loves beautiful things. For out of his heart and with his might hands he made you. Only God him self could have made such beauty as yours. If there is a greater beauty I have yet to see it with my eyes.Your beauty has reached deep into my heart and soul and I thank God for that. I can only hope and dream that my love for you has touched your heart as well.
7-24-09
poem by Timothy Honeycutt
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To
I remember the marvellous moment
you appeared before me,
like a transient vision,
like pure beauty’s spirit.
Lost in hopeless sadness,
lost in the loud world’s turmoil,
I heard your voice’s echo,
and often dreamed your features.
Years passed. The storm winds scattered,
with turbulent gusts, that dreaming.
I forgot your voice, its tenderness.
I forgot your lovely face.
Remote in my darkened exile,
the days dragged by so slowly,
without grace, without inspiration,
without life, without tears, without love.
Then my spirit woke
and you, you appeared again,
like a transient vision,
like pure beauty’s spirit.
And my heart beats with delight,
and ecstasy, inside me,
and grace and inspiration,
and tears, and life, and love.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Decalogue Of The Artist
I. You shall love beauty, which is the shadow of God
over the Universe.
II.There is no godless art. Although you love not the
Creator, you shall bear witness to Him creating His likeness.
III.You shall create beauty not to excite the senses
but to give sustenance to the soul.
IV. You shall never use beauty as a pretext for luxury
and vanity but as a spiritual devotion.
V. You shall not seek beauty at carnival or fair
or offer your work there, for beauty is virginal
and is not to be found at carnival or fair.
VI. Beauty shall rise from your heart in song,
and you shall be the first to be purified.
VII.The beauty you create shall be known
as compassion and shall console the hearts of men.
VIII.You shall bring forth your work as a mother
brings forth her child: out of the blood of your heart.
IX. Beauty shall not be an opiate that puts you
to sleep but a strong wine that fires you to action,
for if you fail to be a true man or a true woman,
you will fail to be an artist.
X. Each act of creation shall leave you humble,
for it is never as great as your dream and always
inferior to that most marvelous dream of God
which is Nature.
poem by Gabriela Mistral
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The Autumn Sing
Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…
Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….
Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?
No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…
Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….
Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….
No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?
Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…
All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...
poem by Eva Clara Harahap
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Truth of Heart...
Truth be told …
In this soul in this mind is this heart a shrine
Pictures of this life a true heart you will find
Look into this heart of mind speaks of this life
Held in hand a truth of love memories of a kind
Sending love of messages of this love of mind
True to heart impatiently waiting for each line
Oh this heart answers when upon sounds ring
Of this soul of heart listening to who it brings
Truth be known of this heart beats of this life
Heart to ear speaks this mind within those near
In and of favorites who will be the one endeared
A cell phone is your heart within which a truth lies
poem by Knights Dreams
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Lover Of My Soul
When I see the winter turning into spring
Oh, it speaks to this heart of mine
More than anything
Underneath a blanket of snow, cold and white
Something is stirring in the still of the night
And then the sun comes up, slowly with the dawn
Oh, this is the kind of feeling
That I hang my hope upon
There is love and beauty in all that I see
And no one, nobody, is explaining You to me
And maybe my eyes can't see
But You are surrounding me
Here in the wind and rain
The things that I know
Tender and sweet, and strong as my need
I know the voice, I know the touch
Lover of my soul
And when the evening comes, and sunlight fades to red
And time and time and time again
I whisper in my head
'Give me strength, give me faith', to fully believe
That the Maker of this whole, wide world
Is a Father to me
And maybe my eyes can't see
But You are surrounding me
Here in the wind and rain
The things that I know
Tender and sweet, and strong as my need
I know the voice, I know the touch
Lover of my soul
I need the voice, I need the touch
And maybe my eyes can't see
But You are surrounding me
Here in the wind and rain
The things that I know so well
Tender and sweet, and strong as my need
I know the voice, I know the touch
Lover of my soul
I know the voice, I know the touch
Lover of my soul
Talkin' to me and the things I know
Oh, You're the lover of my soul
Talkin' to me and the things I know
You are the lover of my soul
Talkin' to me and the things I know
You are the lover of my soul
In the wind, and the rain, and the snow...
You are the lover of my soul
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Were Love So Easy Everyone Could Love So
Were love so easy everyone could love so
But if love were easy it would be worth much less
So the hard thing to do is to love, and love show
So hard, that rarely our earthly soul is loved bless.
Just part of a soul, an inert soul that doth not move
To the symphony of color, the spirit of loving beauty
A virtue it is to move to love's most beautiful groove
And play the crimson flute, in the soul of symphony
Where this virtuous flute be, but in true love's hand
Far from me am encircled in an orb of sullen woe
Lost in a mundane web, aloof from love's mystic land
An alien world, my vice will never let me know
The rare thing we call love, a feeling so vast but brief
Love, the thing to heal our never ending grief….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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To Cesario
CESARIO, thy Lyre's dulcet measure,
So sweetly, so tenderly flows;
That could my sad soul taste of pleasure,
Thy music would soften its woes.
But ah, gentle soother, where anguish
Takes root in the grief-stricken heart;
'Tis the triumph of sorrow to languish,
'Tis rapture to cherish the smart.
The mind where pale Mis'ry sits brooding,
Repels the soft touch of repose;
Shrinks back when blest Reason intruding,
The balm of mild comfort bestows.
There is luxury oft in declining,
What pity's kind motives impart;
And to bear hapless fate, unrepining,
Is the proudest delight of the heart.
Still, still shall thy Lyre's gentle measure,
In strains of pure melody flow;
While each heart beats with exquisite pleasure,
SAVE MINEthe doom'd VICTIM OF WOE.
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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Reverie of Tenderness
Slipping down the pane
soothing former pain,
looking through reflections
of miss mission's misdirections,
je suis
From epidermal ephemerality
to thermal collaterality
feelings, scent, sent reeling
former barriers, thereby healing
tu es
Heart beats' drum from tympan pulse
to tears torn through relief repulse
grief's leaf, as lief two share in joy
repudiating puppet, toy
il[e] est
Contact confirm steam dreams' supreme
while wild eyes rain, hope's reign is theme
that 'out on limb' translates to goal,
gaol free, hearts whole, no longer sole
... id est
reverie of tenderness...
31 May 2010 PXX_KLZ
N; B;
je suis - I am... or I follow?
tu es - you are... not tué - killed
il{e] est... is an island ... or he is?
id est... that is (to say]
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Introit : V. Litany Of Beauty
Joy, if the Soul or aught immortal be,
How may this Beauty know mortality?
O Beauty, perfect child of Light,
Sempiternal spirit of delight!
White and set with gold like the gold of the night,
The gold of the stars in quiet weather,--
White and shapely and pure!--
O lily-flower from stain secure,
With life and virginity dying together!
One lily liveth so,
Liveth for ever unstained, immortal, a mystic flower:
Perfectly wrought its frame,
Gold inwrought and eternal white,
White more white than cold of the snow,
For never, never, near it came,
Never shall come till the end of all,
Hurtful thing in wind or shower,
Worm or stain or blight;
But ever, ever, gently fall
The dews elysian of years that flow
Where it doth live secure
In flawless comeliness mature,
Golden and white and pure.
In the fair far-shining glow
Of eternal and holy Light.
Beauty of earthly things
Wrought by God and with hands of men!
Beauty of Nature and Art,
Fashioned anew for each Time brings,
For each new soul and living heart!
Beauty of Beauty that fills the ken
Till the soul is swooning, faint with delight!
Beauty of human form and voice,
Of eyes and ears and lips!--
O golden hair and brow of white!--
Wine of Beauty that whoso sips
Doth die to a spirit free, and rejoice,
Living with God and living with men,
Rapt rejoice in eternal bliss,
Raising his face to meet the kiss
Of the Beauty seraphic he sees above
In figure of his love.
O Beauty of Wisdom unsought
That in trance to poet is taught,
Uttered in secret lay,
Singing the heart from earth away,
Cunning the soul from care to lure,--
O mystic lily, from stain and death secure,
Till the end of all to stay!
O shapely flower that must for ever endure!
O voice of God that every heart must hear!
O hymn of purest souls that dost unsphere
The ravished soul that hears! O white, white gem!
O rose that dost the senses drown in bliss!
No thought shall stay the wing, or stem
The song or win the heart to miss
Thy love, thy joy, thy rapture divine!
O Beauty, Beauty, ever thine
The soul, the heart, the brain,
To own three in a loud perpetual strain,
Shriller and sweeter than song of wine,
Than song of sorrow or love or war!
Beauty of heaven and sun and day,
Beauty of water and frost and star,
Beauty of dusk-tide, narrowing, grey!
Beauty of silver light,
Beauty of purple night,
Beauty of solemn breath,
Beauty of closèd eye, and sleep, and death!
Beauty of dawn and dew,
Beauty of morning peace,
Ever ancient and ever new,
Ever renewed till waking cease
Or sleep for ever, when loud the angel's word
Through all the world is heard!
Beauty of brute and bird,
Beauty of earthly creatures
Whose hearts by the hand of God are stirred!
Beauty of the soul,
Beauty informing forms and features,
Fairest to God's eye,--
Beauty that cannot fade or die
Though atoms to ruin roll!
Beauty of blinded Trust,
Led by the hand of God
To a heaven where Cherub hath never trod!
Austere Beauty of Truth
Lighting the way of the just!
Splendid Beauty of Youth
Staying when Youth is sped,
Living when Life is dead,
Burning in funeral dust!
The glory of form doth pale and pall,
Beauty endures to the end of all.
poem by Thomas MacDonagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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力 Aura of Felicity 爱
He meets by chance he'll ever bless
a maiden, and some hidden hand
unveils an inner loveliness
too few take time to understand.
Time stands stock still, clock can't progress,
as second sight's embracing strand
second-thoughts disbands - caress
sends shivers through pores which expand.
His promise, through her presence, grows
to match the merits in her eyes,
to blushing envy turns the rose
acknowledging true Paradise.
They flow together, former woes -
in ways no verse may summarize -
replaced by links which cannot close
metamorphosis supplies.
Thought trains awake dreams skeins asleep,
her aura haunts him day and night,
one image still will senses sweep
with wonder, worship, and delight.
Warm aura rippling, rich and deep,
excites, incites to more insight,
love's neurones bridge synaptic leap
like salmon fording stream, scales bright.
Drawn by strong dreams nightlong he longs,
most humble where he most aspires,
to offer sacred, secret songs
to her he honours and desires
where 'we belong' may know no wrongs,
all echoes joy's celestial choirs,
where happiness itself prolongs,
no guarantees, no pleas requires.
Her graces make him rich. He'd ask
no golden ring engraven while
he may not prove himself to task
the equal of that precious smile.
Meanwhile would pleasure find and bask
in soft reflection, reconcile
hopes, fears, fears, hopes, and, shedding mask,
beguiled by feelings versatile.
He aims to catch flame's eye, perform
some labour, famed reward immense,
anticipates ways to transform
bright bloom in new-born innocence
to future shared, trust crystal clear.
Hope holds key to true happiness.
He trembles, mixing joy and fear,
would stand beside her, nothing less...
September 2006,4 July 2008
see below for previous versions: previous titles Her aura Haunts
Her Aura Haunts
He meets by chance he'll ever bless
a maiden, and some hidden hand
unveils an inner loveliness
too few take time to understand.
His promise, through her presence, grows
to match the merits in her eyes,
to blushing envy turns the rose
acknowledging true Paradise.
Thought trains awake dreams skeins asleep,
her aura haunts him day and night,
one image still will senses sweep
with wonder, worship, and delight.
(20 April 1990 and 2 September 2006 see below for first version)
Her Beauty Haunts
He meets by chance, he must confess,
a damsel, and some hidden hand
unveils her inner loveliness
that others fail to understand.
His promise, through her presence, grows
to match the merits in her eyes,
to blushing envy turns the rose
who knows that She is Paradise.
For joy of her he finds no sleep,
her beauty haunts him day and night,
dreams melt his heart, his senses sweep
with wonder, worship, and delight.
Inspired by her nightlong he longs,
most humble where he most aspires,
to offer sacred, secret songs
to her he honours and desires.
Her graces make him rich. He'd ask
no golden ring engraven while
he may not prove himself to task
the equal of that precious smile.
He hopes to catch her eye, and do
some labour, joy's reward immense,
anticipates the date she'll, too,
see bloom in new-born innocence
shared future - vision crystal clear
which holds the key to happiness, -
he trembles, mixing joy and fear,
to stand beside her, nothing less...
(20 April 1990)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silence (Part I)
Sometimes I see you as my child,
Sometimes I see you as my sweetheart,
And when I look into your eyes,
I see that tender and sweet smile,
And I want to say what’s in my heart,
And I want to tell you how I feel,
But my voice remains there, still,
And I just stare at your loving face,
And let the love from my heart,
Flow like a wild river in furious race,
to enfold your sweet and pure soul
with a sea of love and tenderness.
Sometimes there’s so much to say,
but nothing flows from my lips,
And only silence is there to stay,
And only the silence I should keep,
Because what I had to say was already said,
How words could express
never-ending love and tenderness?
How could I just say at one time,
I love you more than my own life?
And there remains the deep silence,
Silence and more silence,
to signal that divine presence,
of my silent love; my heart’s essence.
But this silence is not empty silence,
when divine love fills all my senses,
when nature’s beauty colours your soul,
and fades away all pity and woe.
Because when there is silence,
you can hear the silent language,
the heavenly music of my heart’s song,
God’s eternal music He’s been playing all along,
And in that silence you’ll hear my song,
The endless tune that my love sings,
with the sweetest notes in your luscious dreams,
which eternally flow like endless streams.
(2009)
poem by Roberto Echanes
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On The Purple And White Carnation
'TWAS a bright May morn, and each opening flower
Lay sunning itself in Flora's bower;
Young Love, who was fluttering round, espied
The blossoms so gay in their painted pride;
And he gazed on the point of a feathered dart,
For mischief had filled the boy-god's heart;
And laughed as his bowstring of silk he drew,
And away that arrow at random flew:
Onward it sped like a ray of light,
And fell on a flower of virgin white,
Which glanced all snowy and pure at the sun,
And wept when his glorious course was run:
Two little drops on its pale leaves lay
Pure as pearls, but with diamond ray,
(Like the tear on Beauty's lid of snow,
Which waits but Compassion to bid it flow
It rested, that dart; and its pointed tip
Sank deep where the bees were wont to sip;
And the sickening flower gazed with grief
On the purple stains which dimmed each leaf,
And the crystal drops on its leaves that stood
Blushed with sorrow and shame till they turned to blood.
It chanced that Flora, wandering by,
Beheld her flow'ret droop and die;
And Love laughed in scorn at the flower-queen's woe,
As she vainly shook its leaves of snow.
Fled from her lip was the smile of light :--
'Oh! who hath worked thee this fell despite!
Thou who did'st harm, alas! to none,
But joyed'st all day in the beams of the sun!'
''Twas Love!' said the flower, and a scented sigh
Loaded the gale that murmured by.
'Twas Love! and the dew-drops that blushed on the wound
Sank slow and sad to the pitying ground.
''Twas Love!' said Flora: 'accursed be the power
That could blight the bloom of so fair a flower.
With whispers and smiles he wins Beauty's ears,
But he leaves her nothing save grief and tears.
Ye gods! shall he bend with such tyranny still
The weak and the strong to his wanton will?
No! the hearts that he joins may rude discord sever;
Accursed be his power for ever and ever.'
She spoke, and wept; and the echo again
Repeated the curse, but all in vain--
The tyrant laughed as he fluttered away,
Spreading his rainbow wings to the day,
And settling at random his feathered darts
To spoil sweet flowers, or break fond hearts.
He fled--and the queen o'er her flower in vain
Poured the evening dew and the April rain,
The purple spots on her heart still were.
And she said, as she wept her fruitless care,
'The blight and the stain may be washed away,
But what Love hath ruined must sink in decay.'
And she sent it on earth, to dwell below
In the autumn fog and the winter snow.
And even, 'tis said, on summer eves
O'er that sad lost flower she wails and grieves;
And the drops that by mortals as dew are seen
Are the tears of the mourning flower-queen.
And when men are gazing with fond delight
On its varied leaves, and call them bright,
And praise the velvet tints, and say
There never was flower more pure and gay:
That flow'ret says, as it droops its head,
'Alas! for the day when by love I bled;
When my feathery flowers were pure and white,
And my leaves had no earthly stain or blight,
When no chilling blasts around me blew,
And in Flora's garden of light I grew.
Oh! the blight and the stain may be washed away,
But what Love hath ruined must sink in decay.'
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Overwhelming Needs 0977
I share an overwhelming need to give and to receive,
Hold feelings words fail to express, if uttered few'd believe
As message follows message, as flood gates fall at last,
Voice echoes hope's choice, knows flow sows, advancing very fast.
Electric thrill, heat, chill, here fills both body, soul, to weave
A waterfall whose rainbow shawl fulfills, must not deceive,
Now safety-net's forgotten, fears fade as fades the past
Once threatening to bird who'd wing through shadows overcast.
Vain fears are shown, tears overblown, as two twinned hearts conceive
Excitement new which through and through can run, yet never grieve.
Raw, uncooked feelings flow, both know, prepare for shared repast.
With freedom found, with chains unbound, perceive horizons vast.
Here we're as one, and have begun to interact, naive,
Enchanted too, as two discover much we may achieve.
Life's aim: love's flame, no need for fame which fades like winter leave,
My melody, true harmony, from one love's drawn, outcast
It would soon wilt, let nothing filter through, each word miscast:
No coloured dot forget-me-not would greyness dull relieve,
Grant ease of heart if two apart were torn beyond reprieve.
New worlds await where anger, hate, unknown are, we'll outlast
Ends and beginnings as Life sings, can never be downcast.
Each has an overwhelming need to give and to receive,
Decide with me, soon we shall see soul, spirit, interweave.
(8 November 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Death-Day Of Korner
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
The youth went down to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.
He went, with his noble heart unworn,
And pure, and high;
An eagle stooping from clouds of morn,
Only to die!
He went with the lyre, whose lofty tone
Beneath his hand
Had thrill'd to the name of his God alone,
And his Father-land.
And with all his glorious feelings yet
In their first glow,
Like a southern stream that no frost hath met
To chain its flow.
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.
He hath left a voice in his trumpet-lays
To turn the flight,
And a guiding spirit for after days,
Like a watch-fire's light.
And a grief in his father's soul to rest,
Midst all high thought;
And a memory unto his mother's breast,
With healing fraught.
And a name and fame above the blight
Of earthly breath,
Beautiful beautiful and bright,
In life and death!
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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The nature of her beauty
The nature of her beauty
~
her pale soft skin
pure like untouched fields of snow
her lips red like the roses petal
feather like in their kiss
those eyes warm like the earth
feed my soul with a richness of passion
the depth of which is limitless
bury my heart into hers
let me lay amongst her nature
let me rejoice her beauty
let her words sing to me
the essence of her soul
place my hands in hers firmly
that I may feel their warmth
holding eternally
there is a beauty undying
embedded into my heart
and its all in her nature
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You
You are the one who makes me happy
When everything else turns to grey
Yours is the voice that wakes me mornings
And sends me out into the day
You are the crowd that sits quiet
Listening to me
And all the mad sense that I make
(*) you are one of the few things worth remembering
And since its all true
How could anyone mean more to me
Than you
Sorry if sometimes I look past you
Theres no one beyond your eyes
Inside my head whells are turning
Hey, sometimes Im not so wise
You are my heart and my soul
My inspiration
Just like the old love song goes
Repeat (*)
Youre my heart and my soul
My inspiration
Just like the old song goes
Repeat (*)
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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