His Stories

Lapsing in a diversion of colourful waterfalls

My image of you fades in and out

He loves me, He loves me not

Why does he feel the need to impress me?

He impresses me with who he is

Not with his stories

I love the man he is

And the man he will become

Not his stories

His stories are of who he was

Not who he is now

I love who he is now

A born-again fallen angel

I want his wings so I can fly

He's a good man now

What will he be later?

He longs to wipe the tears from my face

But is he just telling more stories?

His stories could be true

His stories could be false

His stories could be exaggerated

But his stories do not make him who he is

I help to make up who he is

I give him new stories

He'll have new stories to tell

New rainbows to collect

New stars to share

His wings spread across the sky

He has new clouds

New clouds he can call his own

New clouds for his stories

Folklore or fiction

His stories are his own

He has a new ray of sunshine

A new kind of rain

It's not gloomy rain, not sad

It's cheerful rain, Happy rain he wants to share

He wants to show people his happiness

Tell his new found stories

His stories of happiness

May his happy stories take form

Take form in his new sunny life

May his happy stories make him happy

I know he longs to be happy

His stories will go on

He will go on

He's gone