Cherished pages may be ripped from the book’s heart,
Cast to the shadows it may go from memory.
Writers fade as from inspiration they part,
Their souls and spirits may turn tired and weary.
But please My dear, fill the pages for Me.
Ink can be driven as it flies in the air
When gone is the hand that scribes the love letters.
But there is no reason for you to despair,
For our moments spent are eternal treasures.
So please My dear, fill the pages for Me.
Life must go on even at times when it seems
That the evening gleam corrupted the hopes of day
And cursed the sleep to haunt with broken dreams,
A nightmare of the past to make you its prey.
O please My dear, fill the pages for Me.
Let Me be your Life and Sweet Inspiration.
Let Me be your Guide with My Faithful Spirit.
As the light that shines in the blue horizon,
I am the Candle that glows and stays up lit.
Now please My dear, fill the pages for Me.
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Copyright © 2010 by Prince Obed de la Cruz
(October 5,2010; AMA EAST RIZAL)
(This poem is written by Obed DC. To use it in a proper manner, please email him at princeobed_dc@yahoo.com)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this one about love and memories and really touching