I open my eyes, a dream wearing thin
Your perfumed breath settled into my skin
I follow your path, to your voice I’m sworn
a grasping hand that’s been struck by your thorn

You plucked me away in twinkling night air
hands swiftly unweaving love undeclared
no root could hold on, no voice would remain
so I myself turn, and drift now away

there is no return to roads left behind
just a dew glistened path-the pull of time
no crown, no grave, no prayer left to free me
here lies a rose which no king would envy