Photo credit: Knuth Waltenberg
There are times I find myself like a song,
Free, gentle, beautifully created, and upbeat:
And there are times, I find myself,
Like a broken record replaying old songs;
of the past mishaps, like a rip torn sheet,
—momentarily:
There are times my smile seems, to want go on endlessly,
Then my mouth transform to a despondent disguise;
The seriousness, of your mystical energy, your mystical eyes,
Lighten my load and made me smile:
—Your gentle whisper brings solitude to my heart, all the time.
Empress Journee
