What's love For those
Who have not Loved;
Lay down on pillows,
Stared at clouds above.
An empty cup,
A marching band
That runs amok.
The empty eyes,
The tight pursed lips,
The clenched fist
Of the oppressed won't hurt.
A heart in solitude yearns
For the warmth and touch
Of a lover's burn.
I see an empty seat in need
Of a friend, a lover,
A need to feed.
The orange trees fruiting in the ravine,
Are out of reach, will fall and seed.
The winds that bring a cool night breeze
Are halted and can't give reprieve.
A table set with one plate and cup,
Is where I sit,
It's not enough.
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 9:42 AM UTC
What's love For those
Who have not Loved;
Lay down on pillows,
Stared at clouds above.
An empty cup,
A marching band
That runs amok.
The empty eyes,
The tight pursed lips,
The clenched fist
Of the oppressed won't hurt.
A heart in solitude yearns
For the warmth and touch
Of a lover's burn.
I see an empty seat in need
Of a friend, a lover,
A need to feed.
The orange trees fruiting in the ravine,
Are out of reach, will fall and seed.
The winds that bring a cool night breeze
Are halted and can't give reprieve.
A table set with one plate and cup,
Is where I sit,
It's not enough.
