Thinking, trying, dying,
Everything is changing.
Many birds are round,
Their songs are loud.
I am sinking, sighing:
“Anyone can hear me?
Any hand to help me?”.
Waiting for that special
Special one who once lived
In my heart and broke it
In my heart and stole it.
Stanzas to be written,
Pictures to be painted.
Everything’s forgotten,
Everything’s forgiven.
Path of life is broken,
Heart that lived is no more,
Voice that cried is not heard.
Will you, will you heal it?
I want to believe in it.
Many days are needed
To clime up a mountain,
To get to the shore that
Once was seen while dreaming.
Picture to be painted
In your dream is living.
It is you who’ll paint it,
It is you who’ll forgive all.
Thinking, trying, dying...
© Copyright: Елена Шмураткина, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107051502309
Свидетельство о публикации №107051502309
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Dear Elena,
I like your poem. It's so expressive, I like the metaphoras you used.
Your Angel
Ангел На Земле 15.05.2007 23:12 • Заявить о нарушении
I like your poem. It's so expressive, I like the metaphoras you used.
Your Angel
Ангел На Земле 15.05.2007 23:12 • Заявить о нарушении