The constant flow of trickle, the gentle breeze that blows, ever so lightly through my hair, and a twinkle, a suggestion, it surely knows..
A casual Saturday morning,
You probably would not believe,
the miracle of tomorrow is here yet once again.
She was softly caressing my face with her gentle whispers of truth,
For the truth has to be told now, the waiting caves in,
Sliding away, from hope and desire, there is nothing we can do, to prevent it from happening, to hinder it once more, the unspoken truth.
But it was not always so! It was not at all like this! No no no, the silent weeping that is heard every night, clenching and clutching the dear hearts of those who forgot!
The screams of desire, the fear will now surround, the truth and the compensation of my rapture, the drip drop trickling I can hear inside my mind.
