Error of Days

If i could keep you here like a pressed flower With poems and dreams Songs unsung And to hold would heal me every hour Like potion stings on my tongue And a smile would pay for all of my shames Laughter of fools, falling in love, the first time again For the days i feared and held like the rain Finding a seem broken between fall in the drain If i could keep you here like a pressed flower On darkest days moon nor sun In a box of years well i would devor In lonely ways, made for one In a book unnamed and hidden in chains Far from the cruel sun that will fuel, the error of days In a box of things broken and stray There you would go between the fold never to fade