|
Post by anirbas on Oct 14, 2008 23:39:49 GMT -6
empty is this bed without the bulk of your frame to fill the terrain...
forlorn is this soul subtracted of your presence in a world so strange-
minus your dear face I am in, not of this place- a fraction, not whole...
but, I carry on head held high, eyes on the prize yours, until the end...
|
|
|
Post by moseley on Apr 17, 2012 22:43:08 GMT -6
this is a good romantic piece, should be written on a nice vellum to put inside an otherwise dull card to give it a heart and a soul...
|
|
|
Post by anirbas on Apr 22, 2012 15:16:35 GMT -6
I had forgotten writing this piece...Thank you, John.
|
|