I am the daughter of time
He came and stole away
That day
That fateful day
When he took everything from me.
I am the mother of sorrow
Who gave birth to his fortune
That day
That fateful day
When he took everything from me.
I am the keeper of the memory
He left me to live every moment
That day
That fateful day
When he took everything from me.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
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3 comments:
Glad to hear from you, again.
Writing can be a healing to the soul through weary wintry wandering.
A beautiful piece.
Writing can be healing as long as it doesn't pull one farther into the depths.
moving snapshot you present through words.definitely delving deep into your world
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