The sound of time

The leather of life wears away everyday.
The poems I write are falling apart.
The music of life will stand up and play.
My chest is open; there’s a hole in my heart. 

Time passes and heals all wounds that we carry.
Beating on like a marching band.
Without our love, who else can we marry?
We leave this world without holding a hand. 

Eat all my words; drink all my sorrows.
Follow the ones with no one to follow. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s