I know not from where this affection stirred,
A notion undreamt ‘til life stirred anew,
While in learning of written prose and word,
I think of a circumstance, wishing it true,
An hour and a half pass on too fast,
And in your life, my role hath not been cast,
At each period’s end, my soul doth wither,
Another day your eyes fail to turn hither,
I know not when and I know not how,
Or when the lord on high will endow,
But should the fateful day my fool’s wish come,
My heart will beat like an arrhythmic drum,
So I will wait, with my heart as your thrall,
Waiting to show you what’s behind my walls.
About the Creator
Marty Res
We all live on borrowed time, which is what gives our lives meaning. To waste life would be a travesty.
I'm just a simple writer trying to make make my way through the world, and hope I can bring some enjoyment along the way.
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