(c)opyleft 1995-2008 Matthew Lewis Carroll Smith
The birds sing in the trees above; their melody is sweet. I wish to speak words of love but wish to be discrete. I wish that I could sing a song; a melody so pure, you'd stay in my arms too long, and submit to my lure.
The sounds of nature keep calling; and I wish to sing them to you. To find you slowly falling and I would know what to do.
May 4, 1996
here is something I hope is doing no evil.
there could be more of them