Time
I want to close my eyes and sink into the warmth of your palm. I also want to open my eyes and understand the reality of pain my future holds. But I want to sleep now and dream of angels till my hair turns grey and my hands grow weak because only then will I know what I have missed.
posted by 100hands at Friday, November 18, 2005
2 Comments:
Feel the loneliness make your hair grey.
And the warm light that signals day.
Two sides of the same hope,
Twisting, hinting, keeping you breathing.
Rock!
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