*There is no time, in my eyes,
spent with you
that contain shadows,
warranting hopelessness or a magic potion.
Our sweet water is never lost
in what lays within
the music
streaming from our hands.
As if in a circle of satisfaction,
we talk in retrospect,
seeking comforting remnants
of what we brought to each others arms.
Measured spaces sit upright
on the shores of who we are,
yet still,
we are the same.
The whispering cries of love and hope
slowly pace
outside our doors.
We smile at memories
ascending to meet them
in the truest beauty.
What more
could we ask for?
Music to our ears so sweet,
is time slipping
where it’s supposed to.
Why would we run and ask for more
knowing one day again
we will be
face to face?*
Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 9:01 AM UTC
*There is no time, in my eyes,
spent with you
that contain shadows,
warranting hopelessness or a magic potion.
Our sweet water is never lost
in what lays within
the music
streaming from our hands.
As if in a circle of satisfaction,
we talk in retrospect,
seeking comforting remnants
of what we brought to each others arms.
Measured spaces sit upright
on the shores of who we are,
yet still,
we are the same.
The whispering cries of love and hope
slowly pace
outside our doors.
We smile at memories
ascending to meet them
in the truest beauty.
What more
could we ask for?
Music to our ears so sweet,
is time slipping
where it’s supposed to.
Why would we run and ask for more
knowing one day again
we will be
face to face?*
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