Gather your Swords

The night birds sing
their chipper tune
as I lie in bed
during a warm June,
but my lonely love
yearns for your touch.
I have yet to find you --
thus is my crutch.

Then an October eve,
a Saturday,
I crossed your path;
you lead me away
to a land of passion
and roses so bright.
Your fragile soul,
my guiding light.

When the nights are short
and the days are gray
and the desperate sorrows
lead my thoughts astray,
I remember you,
my person, my heart,
and your love lets nothing
tear me apart.

For the rain will fall
and the stars will shine
while all I can ponder
is how you are mine.
So gather your swords;
there are dragons to slay
because April is yours,
and you’re mine, André.