Where Are You Now

Where Are You Now – Imany 

Days had gone into nights and nights had gone into days – And everyday gone count one thousand days in my life.  “I’ve learned that waiting is the most difficult bit, and I want to get used to the feeling, knowing that you’re with me, even when you’re not by my side.”

 

 Lyrics:

I see a picture in a frame
I see a face without a name
Riding alone on an empty train
Where are you

I live in a house of broken hearts
Leaves are falling in the park
Every day is a question mark
Where are you

I would drive through the rain (to find you)
Walk a desert plain (behind you)
You could unlock these chains (untie to)
Where are you now

Through the storm I call your name (to guide you)
Love could be the flame (beside you)
If you unlock these chains (untie to)
Where are you now

Lying in my room at night
Silhouettes are dressed in white
Waiting for the morning light
Where are you

Each day you live and learn
As the wheels of heaven turn
For you my candle burns
Where are you

I would drive through the rain (to find you)
Walk a desert plain (behind you)
You could unlock these chains (untie to)
Where are you now

Through the storm I call your name (to guide you)
Love could be the flame (beside you)
If you unlock these chains (untie to)
Where are you now

so far
Out there, I can almost touch you
You’re here in my mind all the time
Where are you now

to find you
Walk a desert plain (behind you)
You could unlock these chains (untie to)
Where are you now

Through the storm (through the storm) I call your name (to guideyou)
Love could be the flame (beside you)
If you unlock these chains (untie to)
Where are you, where are you now

Walk a desert plain (behind you)
If you’d unlock these chains (untie to)
Where are you now

Songwriters: Scott English / Phil Manikiza / Simon Stirling
Where Are You lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

TO MY FATHER –

Dear Dad,

 

My Dad

 

 

What a day!? A day to remember who has taught me, guided me and instilled wisdom in me my entire life. You have promised countless times that you love me. Can I ask for anything else? Of course I can, and I always do. As any good father would do, you do what you feel is right in whether or not I should get what I ask for.

There are so many things I’d like to tell you face to face. I either lack the words or fail to find the time or place. But in this special letter, Dad, you’ll find, at least in part, the feelings that the passing years have left in my heart. The memories of childhood days and all that you have done to make our home a happy place and growing up such fun.

I can still recall the walks we took, the games we played; those confidential chats we had while resting in the shade. This letter comes to thank you Dad, for needed words of praise; the counsel and the guidance, too, that shaped my growing-up days. No words of mine can tell you, Dad, the things I really feel; but you must know my love for you is lasting, warm, and real.

You made my world a better place and, through the coming years, I’ll keep these precious memories as cherished souvenirs.

I gave you, I gave you my smile my hours of love,

I gave you, I gave you my smile my hours of love,
My days of sunshine, sweetheart April
I gave my warmth, my flower, I gave my pain
I gave my my truth, I gave what I was.

I offered the skin of my hands, my time better
My humble corner, my nights without you.
My life and freedom and a little love.
What little I went, my love, how little I was.
And you’re going, you’re happy, you’ll forget what I was,
And in my window I see the gray morning dress.

I gave you the light of my eyes, my hours of honey
My tears of gall, my breathing.
The light of my dawn, my wood and my home.
The song of my sparrow and some bread.

Boy at the Window

By Mihran Kalaydjian, CHA

Consultant, Strategist, and Writer

Image

Boy at the Window

Seeing the snowman standing all alone
In dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
A night of gnashings and enormous moan.
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a God-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to paradise.

The man of snow is, nonetheless, content,
Having no wish to go inside and die.
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
Though frozen water is his element,
He melts enough to drop from one soft eye
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
For the child at the bright pane surrounded by
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear.