Red Moon Rise




The wind whispers,

tales of long ago,

of the falling leaves,

of crimson sunset glow.

All that is behind us,

is suddenly set free,

Autumn is the death of summer,

the wind its memory.




Red moon rise,

above the dying trees,

awaking our


All of life is captive,

as autumn reigns.

This the gentle murmur,

of the coming winter’s strain.

Every passing moment,

is imprisoned in the sound,

of the wailing wind,

and the leaves upon the ground.




Rest you weary soul,

beneath the autumn sky.

There’s magic to be found,

in the earth’s on lullaby.

While eyes are shut,

remembrance awakens.

In the dreams of fall,

return the memories, forsaken.




The Nightingale

The Nightingale was a song I wrote for a musical project I worked on with Sebastien Gabriel several years ago called Broken September.  Here you will find the song and the lyrics.


She was still a child,

he was barely a man.

She gave him her heart,

he gave her his hand.

In the field of white lilies,

they professed their love,

to everyone and no one,

and to the above.


And the nightingale sings,

whether stormy or fair,

to the pale maiden,

forever resting there.


They would meet,

beneath the willow tree,

to hold one another,

where no one would see.

The dusk was their blanket,

the moon was their light,

and they’d dream all day,

of the following night.


One night in winter,

the maiden was there,

beneath the willow,

the snow in her hair,

but as hours passed,

her love never came,

all the while her blood,

freezing blue in her veins.


As the color,

drained from her skin,

the blanket of white,

seemed to bury her, then.

There she remained,

for months she did wait,

until spring had come,

the snow melted away.