Lie down in the yarrow of the field
Let yourself be swallowed
By waves of deep green
And lose the notion that it all might be a dream
Upon new grass, become a love supreme
An unfortunate soul trying to break through
Caught in the power lines of a fortunate few
Say a prayer for me in loving memory
Of all I was, and all I meant to be
It’s raining in the streets of London
I can feel it from the fringes of this desert town
Lonely as a cloud, I wander ’round without a sound …
Can you feel me?
Lie down as summer sounds retreat
Adrift on August’s ocean
Draw in your relief
If you dare to breathe and shake the tether free
When you decide you’ll find a love supreme
Oh, the sky’s alive when she looks for me
With the kindest eyes she says goodbye
I guess I never knew why
until I heard her say, ‘My angel has her father’s face.’
©2011 Pale Yellow Music/ASCAP
Robert Müller and the Way Home 
Excellent post thanks for sharing. I enjoy reading and writing poems very much. It’s very relaxing. Thanks again.
An Easter Poem
Thank you for the kind words. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I feel the same as you; writing helps relax, and reading it does to, for the most part.
Reblogged this on Robert Müller and the Way Home and commented:
These are lyrics to a song I wrote shortly after my dad passed away. Sadly, I just discovered that someone I hadn’t seen in quite a while, but still very dear to me, had died night before last.
It reminded me of a beautiful yet terrible dream I had where I had what seemed a kind of omniscient perspective. My daughter was still young and I could see her and my lovely wife, but as a satellite or a cloud would.
The more lucid the dream became the more beautiful it was, but it also became clear I was no longer in their world.
My wife looked up and, for a moment, our eyes met. She began to gently cry and said the last line of the song.
That’s when I woke up …
Or did I?