< terug
Write me
Write me
This day asks me to write it
but my pen lies stilled
by the curtains drawn
my heart is pounding, filled
as I count the days, no hours
so many before you stand
nights of ebb and flow until
I can kiss the palm of your hand
look into those melancholic, dark eyes
still this day asks me to write it
I constantly ask why, no replies
so I wait for the night, the black pit
will ask if it will write me
a teardrop falls on my bended knee
my love is like your wasteland
endless, hot, demanding, not free
this day, I cannot write it
but this night will write me
feedback van andere lezers- andremoortgat
The night will write history
in the palm of your hand
and each teardrop will dry killea: I wish, Andre, thank you
xx
j - warket
De engelse taal beheers ik niet maar ik versta ze wel zoals het geluid in dovemansoren. Een klein deel in een levensachtig leven van een soortgenoot. We mogen ergens altijd wezen. killea: many thanks Warket
xx
j - Danvoieanne
nice xx killea: thank you Anne
xx
j - julien_maleur
a very nice poem of hope
JM killea: thank you Julien
xx
j - jan
keep on writing, beautiful!
xxx
j killea: will do, Jan
xxx
j
|