Of Ruins Afar

There are boughs aloft, and ruins fair,
That dine in the moons pond, and clear.
Laughing, we were, in the nights summer air,
As laughs aloft release our fear.
Upon the summer, there softly sings,
We rode upon the cardinals wings:
   To sight--
   The right,
Wing crash from the fiery sun, in its height

Should not our love rise so high?
Then burn, as a fiery death,
I ask of this in putrid shy.
When times array seems sincerely jest.
Pester me in my dreams, and rest I need,
When the moonless night failed to heed:
   My shy--
   Fair cry
Underneath the summers clear sky

There are boughs aloft, and ruins fair,
Where I lay in the whispering breeze.
When I fell in the sun, and now I lay there,
Where constant flight failed to heed.
Loves burning hate, and mine for you,
Caused me to tumble in skies of blue.
   For love--
   Just love
Caused me to fly high, and far above.