we talk of miracles. of undelivered letters written years ago. of many things that are dear to me. the mighty happenings.
i can only be your canvas. you were golden light reflected all around us.
but i'm exhausted. i'm exhausted.
there's never been a cloud in the sky for you.
without this what will i do?
 
and i know. soon, you'll go.
and i'll pass you, earth or ash.
 
i asked to hear of your garden. to take each of my limbs and dream of happen.
thought i can go again, till i can talk and bend and flower anew.