the path's so empty
the breeze blows
and before her knees he bows.
There's a frozen body
no one can see it,
no one can feel it.
Alone he is,
cuddled in the cold wind
in the dead night.
Trees move side to side
the silence breaks violently
alone he is, alone he will be,
he's begging his loneliness
to let him be free.
Thoughts invade his mind
memories he's trying to find
but all he can get
is the loneliness he clings.
"Love will turn up", he says to survive
the cold is a warrior
which has decided not to die.
Love could be here, covering his grief
but it never comes so he's starting to die
in the middle of the dead night.
If I could just tell you there's someone hidden waiting for you to realise love has come to you. I cannot tell you my love because of the distance putting us apart. I only have this little poem that will come to you no matter where you are or how far you are. I love you!
Andrew Lawrence.
Please, visit my websites:
Please, do share my literary works if you have enjoyed them as much as I did creating them.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario
" La palabra es la traducción literaria del pensamiento"