Traces
I read your words when I am tired,
and still, I am inspired.
Like a ghostly presence
you have
woven yourself into my heart and mind.
My heart, and even my soul;
yes that too you have taken
and to my very depths I have been shaken.
After I read your words,
there are tears
waiting there,
suspended like dewdrops
on each lash
just waiting for a blink
so that they may crash.
Teardrops, but I donÕt mind.
ItÕs from your pain ..
traces that youÕve left behind.
The pain youÕve let me feel.
IÕve read inside your heart;
and know itÕs real.
I close my eyes,
and let my tears fall.
and then your name,
I softly call.
I know that through the ages,
itÕs been the same
with poets, bards and sages
as
we read their dusty pages.
But still,
this isnÕt quite the same
and so
once more,
as I've done a million
times before.
With practiced fingers,
your name I trace,
and with the other hand
I hold back tears
that run down my face.
but as I've said it's not
the same;
because in my heart
I've carved
your name.
© 2005 a_bear
(All rights reserved)
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