We were born
beating to different drums.
But it was more than that,
you always marched
to the rhythm
of your own song.
Eventually we stopped
trying to march
side-by-side.
We both composed
our own melodies,
unable to distinguish
the beat of one another’s drum.
Until I can only hear
my own harmony and
realize you stopped hitting
your drum all together.
I have no gifts to give,
I can only stand beside you
and beat our old tune
waiting for you to find your rhythm
and begin to beat again.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
We were born
beating to different drums.
But it was more than that,
you always marched
to the rhythm
of your own song.
Eventually we stopped
trying to march
side-by-side.
We both composed
our own melodies,
unable to distinguish
the beat of one another’s drum.
Until I can only hear
my own harmony and
realize you stopped hitting
your drum all together.
I have no gifts to give,
I can only stand beside you
and beat our old tune
waiting for you to find your rhythm
and begin to beat again.
