that the sunlight could ever shine on me (of my love) – Ludmila Antonoff

mine heart cries of it, each and every single day

tears washing the writings from ink stained parchments

cloudy the stories of old

tears washing the etchings of drawings

paintings of a canvas that shall never become

yester-dawns sings of horizons that I yearn for

of all that I shall never know

stories now hidden within the confines of a knowing

unvoiced, how could I ever find way to speak (to you)

timeless rests the sunlight, beautifully graceful

posed to the mesmerising romance

resonating throughout my being

claimed by bondage of letters that I may never compose

the lyrics of stories, my life and of my love

could fall on deafened ears

yielding only to telling, passionate is my morning