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A Dampened Spirit The sounds of love whisper in my heart, though the cold now draws a chill. Hers are fading as she travels on, another life, .....it's her will. The branding iron still hot in mine, she shall not fade away. The precious memories I hold of her, will last through out my days. I'm still sending words of of love, they float accross the clouds. She need only touch them, at her feet then I would bow. My worldly goods forsaken, I'd leave them all behind. For one precious moment, when she asked to be mine. The letters that I write to her, all bundled in a drawer. That she might someday read herself, if love should be restored. I'm sure she'll not forget, only fade some at a time. But even that fading I will feel, in this crippled heart of mine. The Masked Writer <,-.-> (C)2001 T Lovett |
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