Violet Sun

Seasons wilting…
Violet sun rising…
In the river, the light is crying.
Frost upon a swan’s wing.

When I touch the hourglass,
And watch the ages pass
I fear all that will be memory;
No longer here with me.

Some bring joy, others bring tears,
From the echoes of departing years.
I wish for a rose from my dear,
Who I pray will join me here

In this world of forgotten snow
That ceased to fall, so long ago...
In a garden only we can see;
The sun rising on you and me.

I long to meet you on solitary shores
Where you might say that I am yours.
It is a dream I long caressed
That you would hold me to your breast

Someday, as before you held me.
Somewhere across the sea
My beacons are lit and glow.
For a love I wish to know.

It is a sigh I send to the sand.
Words I hope you understand:
Dreams come true for those who believe,
But it is a dream for which I grieve.

Seasons burning, violet sunrise
Deep in your beautiful eyes.
On the river, the light is crying…
And now the swan is flying…

© 2019 Marten Hoyle