Oh, to be defined by the warmth of an embrace.
Oh,to know the splendor of a tender smiling face.
To wake each morning in the arms of dawn.
With the feeling that you're really not alone.
How thrilling and fulfilling that must be.
Compared to the emptiness that rests inside of me.
Perhaps it is a symptom of simply growing old.
Flames died into embers;the ashes have grown cold.
Alone I lay here thinking, drinking in the dark.
A man can't light a candle or be warm without a spark.
Your poem stirs longing in the soul. It brings memories of things that were but are not anymore. Its beauty is timeless as love itself and sadly just as absent in my own heart. A wonderful write dear.
Oh, to be defined by the warmth of an embrace.
Oh,to know the splendor of a tender smiling face.
To wake each morning in the arms of dawn.
With the feeling that you're really not alone.
How thrilling and fulfilling that must be.
Compared to the emptiness that rests inside of me.
Perhaps it is a symptom of simply growing old.
Flames died into embers;the ashes have grown cold.
Alone I lay here thinking, drinking in the dark.
A man can't light a candle or be warm without a spark.
Your poem stirs longing in the soul. It brings memories of things that were but are not anymore. Its beauty is timeless as love itself and sadly just as absent in my own heart. A wonderful write dear.
The passion flows out of you so beautifully.. When most people write this way it seems forced, but you, it's natural every time. Thanks for the journey. Gorgeous writing!