I saw a robin on a half-moon morning,
Perched on the fence, the day just dawning.
Silver mist curled low on the ground,
Breath hung heavy, without a sound.
The world was hushed, yet something stirred,
A whisper woven, faintly heard.
Chill in the air, but light was breaking,
A slow, soft pulse—something waking.
Footsteps lost in dampened earth,
A moment poised between death and birth.
Shadows stretched, then fell away,
A golden thread pulled through the gray.
What is coming? The robin knows,
Wings still folded, waiting close.
Half-moon fading, sun climbs high
The hush before the reason why.
A shiver ran through the silent trees,
A warning laced in the waking breeze.
The earth held secrets, old and deep,
Stirring now from restless sleep.
The light was gold, yet laced with gray,
Time stood still, then slipped away.
A cipher carved in frost and forming—
I saw a robin on a half-moon morning.
She stood at the closet doorway not wanting to go in.
She knew all his shirts would still smell of him.
How do I do this, take them all down?
Staring at his clothes she just sits on the ground.
Keep your eyes on the hourglass because the sand never stops.
And never miss a moment, sometimes a moment’s all you’ve got.
She captured his eyes when he walked in the store.
But when she looked back he looked down at the floor.
A smile, a kiss, they were lovers before friends.
They had no way of knowing some joys could end.
They sit hand in hand, eyes glazed from the tears.
The coffin’s so small, no birthday this year.
She thinks how on earth do you get past this pain
He thinks how can cancer be so inhumane.
Keep your eyes on the hourglass because the sand never stops.
And never miss a moment , sometimes a moment’s all you’ve got.
Carefully she carries the tray of food. Says hon, are you hungry?
Confused eyes look back, who are you? I have no money.
It’s ok love, she replies, I’m your wife. Here, let me help with that.
For a brief second she caught his eyes clear and smile back.
Though moments may fade, the memories remain,
In the heart's quiet corners, amidst all the pain.
So treasure each second, each whisper, each glance,
For life’s fleeting moments may give joy a chance.
I keep my eyes on the hourglass because the sand never stops
I can’t miss a moment. Sometimes a moment’s all I’ve got.
I am not made of stone, I am flesh and bone.
I don't think I'm reaching when you bring out the guillotine
to say it's more painful to spew a cruel mouthful.
To say words have power is understating at best—
they splinter through silence, leave messes in chests,
Turn rooms into battlegrounds, eyes into wells,
And breath into blades we learn to inhale.
You spoke like a storm and I wore it like skin.
Still smiling, still nodding but caving within.
You never looked back, never saw what you broke
The fault lines you carved with each careless joke.
And I, I became quieter, trying to unfeel
Tried to bleach out your voice
To convince it wasn’t real
.
But healing, it whispers softly, not grand.
It begins just by holding your own trembling hand.
With writing the truth when no one's around,
and digging up worth buried deep underground.
Now I speak gentler, to myself most of all.
And I build from the rubble instead of the fall.
Your words may have cut me, but I choose the seam.
I’m stitching with poems and daring to dream
In the echo of cruelty I still get to define
What words in my heart are threaded through mine.
I saw a robin on a half-moon morning,
Perched on the fence, the day just dawning.
Silver mist curled low on the ground,
Breath hung heavy, without a sound.
The world was hushed, yet something stirred,
A whisper woven, faintly heard.
Chill in the air, but light was breaking,
A slow, soft pulse—something waking.
Footsteps lost in dampened earth,
A moment poised between death and birth.
Shadows stretched, then fell away,
A golden thread pulled through the gray.
What is coming? The robin knows,
Wings still folded, waiting close.
Half-moon fading, sun climbs high
The hush before the reason why.
A shiver ran through the silent trees,
A warning laced in the waking breeze.
The earth held secrets, old and deep,
Stirring now from restless sleep.
The light was gold, yet laced with gray,
Time stood still, then slipped away.
A cipher carved in frost and forming—
I saw a robin on a half-moon morning.
She stood at the closet doorway not wanting to go in.
She knew all his shirts would still smell of him.
How do I do this, take them all down?
Staring at his clothes she just sits on the ground.
Keep your eyes on the hourglass because the sand never stops.
And never miss a moment, sometimes a moment’s all you’ve got.
She captured his eyes when he walked in the store.
But when she looked back he looked down at the floor.
A smile, a kiss, they were lovers before friends.
They had no way of knowing some joys could end.
They sit hand in hand, eyes glazed from the tears.
The coffin’s so small, no birthday this year.
She thinks how on earth do you get past this pain
He thinks how can cancer be so inhumane.
Keep your eyes on the hourglass because the sand never stops.
And never miss a moment , sometimes a moment’s all you’ve got.
Carefully she carries the tray of food. Says hon, are you hungry?
Confused eyes look back, who are you? I have no money.
It’s ok love, she replies, I’m your wife. Here, let me help with that.
For a brief second she caught his eyes clear and smile back.
Though moments may fade, the memories remain,
In the heart's quiet corners, amidst all the pain.
So treasure each second, each whisper, each glance,
For life’s fleeting moments may give joy a chance.
I keep my eyes on the hourglass because the sand never stops
I can’t miss a moment. Sometimes a moment’s all I’ve got.
I am not made of stone, I am flesh and bone.
I don't think I'm reaching when you bring out the guillotine
to say it's more painful to spew a cruel mouthful.
To say words have power is understating at best—
they splinter through silence, leave messes in chests,
Turn rooms into battlegrounds, eyes into wells,
And breath into blades we learn to inhale.
You spoke like a storm and I wore it like skin.
Still smiling, still nodding but caving within.
You never looked back, never saw what you broke
The fault lines you carved with each careless joke.
And I, I became quieter, trying to unfeel
Tried to bleach out your voice
To convince it wasn’t real
.
But healing, it whispers softly, not grand.
It begins just by holding your own trembling hand.
With writing the truth when no one's around,
and digging up worth buried deep underground.
Now I speak gentler, to myself most of all.
And I build from the rubble instead of the fall.
Your words may have cut me, but I choose the seam.
I’m stitching with poems and daring to dream
In the echo of cruelty I still get to define
What words in my heart are threaded through mine.
I saw a robin on a half-moon morning,
Perched on the fence, the day just dawning.
Silver mist curled low on the ground,
Breath hung heavy, without a sound.
The world was hushed, yet something stirred,
A whisper woven, faintly heard.
Chill in the air, but light was breaking,
A slow, soft pulse—something waking.
Footsteps lost in dampened earth,
A moment poised between death and birth.
Shadows stretched, then fell away,
A golden thread pulled through the gray.
What is coming? The robin knows,
Wings still folded, waiting close.
Half-moon fading, sun climbs high
The hush before the reason why.
A shiver ran through the silent trees,
A warning laced in the waking breeze.
The earth held secrets, old and deep,
Stirring now from restless sleep.
The light was gold, yet laced with gray,
Time stood still, then slipped away.
A cipher carved in frost and forming—
I saw a robin on a half-moon morning.
She stood at the closet doorway not wanting to go in.
She knew all his shirts would still smell of him.
How do I do this, take them all down?
Staring at his clothes she just sits on the ground.
Keep your eyes on the hourglass because the sand never stops.
And never miss a moment, sometimes a moment’s all you’ve got.
She captured his eyes when he walked in the store.
But when she looked back he looked down at the floor.
A smile, a kiss, they were lovers before friends.
They had no way of knowing some joys could end.
They sit hand in hand, eyes glazed from the tears.
The coffin’s so small, no birthday this year.
She thinks how on earth do you get past this pain
He thinks how can cancer be so inhumane.
Keep your eyes on the hourglass because the sand never stops.
And never miss a moment , sometimes a moment’s all you’ve got.
Carefully she carries the tray of food. Says hon, are you hungry?
Confused eyes look back, who are you? I have no money.
It’s ok love, she replies, I’m your wife. Here, let me help with that.
For a brief second she caught his eyes clear and smile back.
Though moments may fade, the memories remain,
In the heart's quiet corners, amidst all the pain.
So treasure each second, each whisper, each glance,
For life’s fleeting moments may give joy a chance.
I keep my eyes on the hourglass because the sand never stops
I can’t miss a moment. Sometimes a moment’s all I’ve got.
I am not made of stone, I am flesh and bone.
I don't think I'm reaching when you bring out the guillotine
to say it's more painful to spew a cruel mouthful.
To say words have power is understating at best—
they splinter through silence, leave messes in chests,
Turn rooms into battlegrounds, eyes into wells,
And breath into blades we learn to inhale.
You spoke like a storm and I wore it like skin.
Still smiling, still nodding but caving within.
You never looked back, never saw what you broke
The fault lines you carved with each careless joke.
And I, I became quieter, trying to unfeel
Tried to bleach out your voice
To convince it wasn’t real
.
But healing, it whispers softly, not grand.
It begins just by holding your own trembling hand.
With writing the truth when no one's around,
and digging up worth buried deep underground.
Now I speak gentler, to myself most of all.
And I build from the rubble instead of the fall.
Your words may have cut me, but I choose the seam.
I’m stitching with poems and daring to dream
In the echo of cruelty I still get to define
What words in my heart are threaded through mine.
I’m Lorin, a lifelong word-weaver. My lyrics speak from lived experience — the grit, the grace, the in-between places of dark and light.
Whether you’re a producer, a performer, or a fellow dreamer, I invite you to find a story here that notes with you.
Though new to the professional music scene, I’ve been a lifelong writer and storyteller. My lyrics come from a place of lived experience and emotional honesty. I’m looking to connect with musicians and producers who resonate with raw, real words that speak straight to the heart.
