(It’s all so quiet)
He silently asks her to hold his hand;
Passionate youth of the hills,
As clear as the new-fallen snow.
(Sparks fly, yet do not come in contact)
You can see the clouds in those eyes
The myth and the mystery both entwined;
A hard gaze, transfixed, quiet, silent.
(Silent murmurs, silent hopes)
The unspoken word as endless as the sky.
Burning youth, forever weightless,
His hand still longs for hers.
(The air is thick with their needs)
And she is reaching out her fingers, And she is torn,
And she is not the timeless one.