Desperation, i've been told,
whilst waiting for a love to unfold;
fighting and dying at the hands of fate,
a fartherless child born not a day late;
taking promises, taking trust,
watch with a smile and a tear
as they turn to dust.
Burried in the silence.
Heart wrenched from one silken touch,
sometimes beauty is not recognised.
when it contrasts with what is felt inside.
To whom does the right belong to point the finger
at whats not understood?
Going to the extream, we are all mad.
Random acts of kindness flow, through rivers stained red, .
Its only when i feel your arms are wrapped around me,
that i see the world as it should be,
whilst desperatly waiting for a love to unfold.
Laura Cummings's Other Poems
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