Who determines,
inside a dream we fly,
yet so quickly the descent
if once begun.
there finds no true answer
why.
Oh there is promise
the look in one’s eyes
to suggest this,
what a moment might
contain
could forever be in our
sky.
Clouds appear
we brush them aside,
for it is now,
not later,
the overcast nature
of indecision
will hurry past our lives
will eventually answer
nigh
There was this time,
once,
when she might show me
a tear,
it was love,
some kind of sensibility,
until that day,
when she turned away,
my words
she no longer
understood,
though she could
let me go,
knowing I might,
safely
cry.
apersonaljourney - stories of love 