The Snow-white ManI look up and down the lane,Staring longingly at each and everyFrosted, windswept window pane;I peer into each blessed hearth-warmedHome, into those fires burning everSo bright; I look into the sitting-roomsAnd gaze at those giant green firsGarnished in shining orbs of eachAnd every hue; I see thoseRosy-cheeked children, their softFeatures bent into such sunny smiles,Their bellies bouncing with suchGleeful giggles as they run andSkip across shiny oaken floors,Over gold-and-red fringed rugs, andAgain on oaken floors, thenInto and out of steamy kitchens,Kitchens of silver and gleaming gold;I watch as fathers
Oh ReflectionOh Reflection,Sometimes I cannot tellWhether it is you or IThe liar. We are butA ripple away, And would beNearer in likenessThan the crow isTo the raven,Were it notFor your inabilityTo breathe.
The Voice in the SilenceJust as the tree in the heart of the woodsWonders,If I topple and fall from standing so tall,Will anyone hear my cry?So you lay in bed, alone, in the nightWondering,If I scream in my head till the world turns redWill anyone hear my cry?But there's a voice on the wind, a whisperedWondering,If I give you a shove to show you my love,Will you ever hear my cry?