Close these sweeping long gray curtains
The dizzying spiraling heights
Soft light pours into the room
Fingers glide over my face
A voice speaks, a figure moves
How could I walk these old dim halls again
How could I leave this room all alone
When she comes by every morning
Brings back pink and pale blue orchids
When she comes by every afternoon
Piano music weeps quietly
As May melts into June
When she comes by every evening
Lays down beside me softly breathing
I'm always amazed at how you find such beautiful words/pictures/feelings. It makes me wanna write songs
ReplyDeleteHow lovely. :)
ReplyDelete