When Love Goes Away

I was never sick of love, I just grew tired, And now, O' father, I can't rise from bed. My struggle for your love, was filled with stars, I in life might live, such love were dead. I knew it did not fall like rain upon your face or brow, Nor from the sea, as music made by churning waves. Yet I stay and read each book and turn each page, And dream that there's a place where love is real. Where such love excapes on wing's you knew I made, Love hid inside a different dream a dream that neither made.