Caricamento in corso...

The Next Day

to Marcy Howard

Though, I awake, in the morning, my heart, gets swept, away,
To events, from the past, blue skies, have turned, to gray,
I hold on, to the thought, that maybe, I still dream,
But when, I pinch, my leg, it’s more, than what, it seems.
When you reach, for someone’s hand, there, could be, rejection,
Yet, if they take it, and walk, with you, is there, any real protection,
All the things, that you, desire, are found, but nothing’s sure,
For, the path, can twist and turn, but still, you long, for more.
Inside, the broken dreams, within, the broken heart,
Behind, the sad, blue eyes, in the soul, ripped apart,
There lives, a lovely lady, whose hair, is jet black,
As I, can only hope, one day, she will, come back.
The soul, is something, we can’t see, yet, it’s something, we know, is real,
And when, that soul, finds, it’s match, and love, is what it feels,
All those things, that hold, you back, somehow, mean less and less,
And with those, things, you can’t, let go, we can, lose, the happiness,
There is, one, redeeming fact, that, through, pain, we overlook,
You can’t, give back that heart, that you, already took,
As your hands, are, tightly clasped, you give, each other, strength,
And when your souls and hearts, combine, forever, is their length.
Events, may make it seem, that it all, was an illusion,
But there’s a thought, you miss, amid, all, the confusion,
As the seasons change, the love, still abides,
And maybe, the next day, your, hearts, will decide.



Altre opere di Lance Nathan Conrad...