Monday, April 15, 2013
It could be the weather that the grips are too cold
It must be the weather, it's not good, I am told
That the budding flowers of spring are of no color
That I am not really allowed to see their splendor
It could be your weather that puts you to freeze
It must be your weather that is no good at ease
That songs fall on cold deaf ears of your heart
Four days and counting, tomorrow's another start
It could be my weather that gave too much away
It must be my weather that I still long and pray
That you wake up on a sunny day and be fine
Even if your first look, your first smile, is not mine
It could be our weather that wear the walls down
It must be our weather that will eventually drown
That I refuse to think of it and it's a growing fear
I wish things are okay. I wish you were here.
9knots | 12:50 am
Never stop asking
Of other writings
Roar until you hear yourself.
I am not who you're looking for.