As a Child I Grieve
Softly,silently as a child I grieve,for the touch of my beloved unrequited love, for the laughter of my children distant,for when nights are ambushed by the coldness of quiet rooms,when the estasy of every memory inquires of my loneliness,when the absence of touch chills me to the bone,when there is no pillow to rest my sorrows upon,when mornings arise and I find my arms around a stranger,I softly,silently grieve as if a child.
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