I woke up on this side of the clouds,
Nearer to the furthest side of leaving it,
But all I wanted, was the one needing me.

Now this is where I sit with a candle,
With a flame to be hoped for, and any flame,
To be warmer, higher, brighter and to be the last.

Side with me on this cloud, I grasp at the wind,
A different place of high hopes, and low flying angels,
In my life, and I bring it to my heart, not to see them go.

A way not to escape, it may lead a cast,
With all the sky there, yet feel nowhere, but to fall,
Waste not this time, make it last, only falling for each other.

©2007, Ron Globe