by Unknown
Sep 2009 360 Views 0 comments
It was You
Through my mind,
running legs;
must be aching.
All day, it was you.
A harp without strings,
no pleasure to hear.
Love's pleasure lost,
your absence felt
Now night is here,
on my pillow.
The scent is mellow,
in slumber I rest
running legs;
must be aching.
All day, it was you.
A harp without strings,
no pleasure to hear.
Love's pleasure lost,
your absence felt
Now night is here,
on my pillow.
The scent is mellow,
in slumber I rest
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2009
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