*Oh lover! Your absent heart has left me wanting.
Your unfocused mind has left me wandering.
You are a playing field, and I am the ball.*
Bounce me.
Words are funny things;
We think we know them;
We think we have mastery over them,
That they are ours to manipulate.
But words, they have a life of their own,
And the power they can speak, we do not fully grasp.
Maybe, words will spill out of you tomorrow morning
As the sun lifts it's brow,
And you are in your bathrobe drinking coffee.
Will you be waiting for them? Will you listen?
Maybe.
Or, perhaps you will be engrossed in the sports section
When the next clear moment arrives.
And you will miss hearing it.
And those words will fly on past you
And settle on the ears of another,
Less inclined to avoidance of the truth.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
*Oh lover! Your absent heart has left me wanting.
Your unfocused mind has left me wandering.
You are a playing field, and I am the ball.*
Bounce me.
Words are funny things;
We think we know them;
We think we have mastery over them,
That they are ours to manipulate.
But words, they have a life of their own,
And the power they can speak, we do not fully grasp.
Maybe, words will spill out of you tomorrow morning
As the sun lifts it's brow,
And you are in your bathrobe drinking coffee.
Will you be waiting for them? Will you listen?
Maybe.
Or, perhaps you will be engrossed in the sports section
When the next clear moment arrives.
And you will miss hearing it.
And those words will fly on past you
And settle on the ears of another,
Less inclined to avoidance of the truth.
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