Was it the zephyr who hissed
over a lonely cup of coffee
when I said you hold true
to the things you could be,
that I hardly look
but I always judge;
And until the sun,
until the sun could guise the smile -
and the sad breeze,
the recurring nightmares of the hopeless,
and over a cup of coffee,
I am colder.
Monday, January 16, 2006
That Smile
at
6:42 PM
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment