Free me from my tired refrains:
Not good enough, will never be
as I sing it again, love in vain,
looking for years, unable to see.
Balance what I feel and what I know,
like the cycling moon, light and dark.
It takes effort to keep doors closed--
is that better than a shot off its mark?
Anything lived is never really gone.
Find words to forgive, but not forget.
Lines in my heart run on and on,
and tomorrow and I have not met.
Words, imprecise, always taste of surprise.
With the winding road, may I also rise.
No comments:
Post a Comment