Oh my Love, your leaving me has taken the warmth from my veins.
Replaced it with a river of steel that burns,
forever crashing with misery and pain.
The lift has been taken from the wings of love,
as I am no longer cradled there with you,
I am here now , earth bound, alone....it's true..
..you are gone.
The songs of joy, once so resoundful,
no longer ring in my ears.
The only sound that echoes now, the knock on the door
I had feared.
This stone that marks the place where my Love now lays,
has become my alter, my place I seek,
each and every day.
Oh my Love you leaving me has taken the warmth from my veins.
I dream of us , talk of us, whish.....until we meet again.
This is a dedication. We all think of widows during War, primarily as the females role. In modern conflicts, this role has become a shared pain. Freedom comes with a cost. Not all price tags are visible.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 3:11 PM UTC
Oh my Love, your leaving me has taken the warmth from my veins.
Replaced it with a river of steel that burns,
forever crashing with misery and pain.
The lift has been taken from the wings of love,
as I am no longer cradled there with you,
I am here now , earth bound, alone....it's true..
..you are gone.
The songs of joy, once so resoundful,
no longer ring in my ears.
The only sound that echoes now, the knock on the door
I had feared.
This stone that marks the place where my Love now lays,
has become my alter, my place I seek,
each and every day.
Oh my Love you leaving me has taken the warmth from my veins.
I dream of us , talk of us, whish.....until we meet again.
This is a dedication. We all think of widows during War, primarily as the females role. In modern conflicts, this role has become a shared pain. Freedom comes with a cost. Not all price tags are visible.
Paul Roberts. A Tribute
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