The light.

As I write this poem for you,

I shall confess my love.

I sit within a dark room,

Candlelit on emotion.

Lighting me up with your wisdom,

Charge me with your charm.

Take my hand with your kindness,

And kiss me in your arms.

A smile resembling the sun,

Your laugh to put me at ease.

If I ever stop thinking of you,

That's when tomorrow's are no more.

As I confess my love for you,

When I write these lines.

I can not wipe this smile off,

You're never off my mind.

I do not write this with a pen,

I do not write this with words.

I write this with all my passion,

I write this from my heart.

The lone Scotsman

Surrounded by grey,

The lone Scotsman stands.

Surrounded by black,

The lone Scotsman pipes.

It's a sorrowing tune,

Which takes all the colour away.

As the rain falls down gently,

Like the last few drops in a bottle of gin.

Where are the colours going,

The lone Scotsman stands.

He's taking all the colours,

The lone Scotsman pipes.

A crowd of one gathers,

To listen to the sorrowing tune.

Monochrome the setting,

Sadness takes his picture.

He thinks he see the colours,

The lone Scotsman stands.

The blues, the yellows, the greens,

The lone Scotsman pipes.

This is how he remember it,

Everything full of life.

Nothing shall ever get him down,

The sound of sweet tomorrow's.

Where has the rain gone,

The lone Scotsman stands.

My heart it thanks you kindly,

The lone Scotsman pipes.