Hanging on, like an empty bird house waiting for spring to arrive
And bring a new crop of visitors who need me.

Hanging on, like last years leaves, not ready to drop from the tree
Even though all the signs are there to tell me I have over stayed my welcome.

Hanging on, like melting snow on a roof top
Slowing losing my grip and falling further and further over the edge.

Hanging on, waiting for your creation would be as difficult as all that
If it weren’t for your messages and my belief in your ability to make it all worthwhile.