The rare old times (My prodigal son

The rare old times

(My Prodigal Son)

Please, bring me to where I can be on my own For resting my empty heart I want to be alone! My poor heart’s going to collapse Because I remember my beautiful rare old times Looking with a frown head

But no tear to shed
That’s why I write all these words into rhymes

Now I wish I was in a loney valley where women kind never been found

Where I can cry in the deepest of my solitude, laying on the ground

All what I see is the lucky memory

in the mirror of my heart

No sad rolling tears and heavy climbs

So please, if I could fly back into my rare old times …

My heart’s stolen, so very much Every hit from now feels like a deep touch I miss parts, just like a puzzle with million pieces

A strong heart what’s dying out

What’s dissolving

like ice

Dissolving like a cloud

So I write this words to my collapsing heart

My heart’s crying pain into my breast

And knocks very slowly under my preserving chest

I feel a dark space with grief into myself My beloved little friend’s become my prodigal son With an age of eighteen Old inside and almost faded and gone …

Geschreven door

Manjula

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Over dit gedicht

Auteur: Manjula
Gecontroleerd door: Sheena
Gepubliceerd op: 20 december 2006
Thema's: [Onzekerheid] [Eenzaamheid] [Geloof]