Sometimes I write songs. . .

Alright, I've written a couple songs this week, and I thought I could share them... But they aren't good enough to record and post yet, so here are the lyrics. :)  [Poem form I guess you could say...]

THE WARMTH OF THE SEASON

As you step into winter with extra layers of clothes
The air shocks your cheeks and you wrinkle your nose.
The bitterness creeps past your skins barricade,
and resurfacing now are past memories made.

This season brings warmth with the temperature low,
For a child was born in a cave long ago.
With the animals there humbly our Lord slept,
Beginning the life that could satisfy debt.

That man, He came to bless and to heal
and experience the pains we would each have to feel.
That man, He came to save and to love,
to bring us the warmth and the light from the Sun.

Though the bitterness creeps past your skins barricade,
heartaches appear and the light begins to fade.

This season brings warmth when your feeling low,
The Healer who came felt this sting long ago.

That man, He came to bless and to heal
and experience the pains we would each have to feel.
That man, He came to save and to love,
to bring us the warmth and the light from the Son.

and...

NO OLDER THAN NINE

When I was a child no older than nine,

I learned not to lock my love deep inside.

And I learned that sometimes our heroes die too young,

But they can still shape us into who we become.

I've learned time and time again

as I've had the chance to live:

Love is to be given while we have the chance to give.

I give my heart, I keep it open to the earth.

and I give more, though I'm not sure what it's worth.

I give my heart, even when it's not returned,

and I give more, as my edges are burned.

Still a clock on the wall puts a lock on my chest,

How can one small thing cause such selfishness.

The ticking whispers that if love is released,

Wounds will come with each of our heartbeats.

But when I was a child no older than nine,

I learned not to lock my love deep inside.

And I learned that sometimes our love dies too young,

But it can still shape us into who we become.

I give my heart, I keep it open to the earth.

and I give more, though I'm not sure what it's worth.

I give my heart, even when it's not returned,

and I give more, as my edges are burned.

I've learned time and time again

as I've had the chance to live:

Love is to be given while we have the chance to give.