A Child Grown, but Not Forgotten
I sleep that I might dream,
I dream of the lost forgotten.
The desire to recall a feeling,
the desire left by the forgotten.
I wish to hold the dream,
to hold the memory of the forgotten.
The ache to touch my lips,
to kiss the skin of my forgotten.
I close my eyes to see your face,
so it will not be forgotten.
Time has stolen the years,
to me you are not forgotten.
No comments:
Post a Comment