Emmanuel Groth
wish a woman upon the stars
and into my lap she falls by night
green eyes—golden hair
both that glimmer upon moonlight
palms that pull me onto cushions
whisper songs and speed my heart
gaze firmly into my eyes
tells me star love shall never part
and on her chest I lay softly
two bodies merge as one
ever so slowly awaiting
the rising of the sun
but with the sun, star love is gone
so I am thrown to the door
tell me, when night love is gone?
who loves who more?
who walks away?
glances back quite often
or her who opens the door
a rough voice that always softens
I tell you, I swear it
the night is like the tide
her star love dies and lives
kicks me out, then pulls inside