Tuesday, June 27, 2006
my face turned pale as deadly pale
my legs refused to walk away
and when she looked ' what can i ail?
my life seem to turn to clay
the trees and bushes round the place
seemed midnight at noonday
i could not see a single thing
words from my eyes did start
they spoke as clouds do from the string
are flowers the winter's choice?
is love's bed always snow?
she seem to hear my silent voice
and love seem to know
my heart has left my dwelling-place
and can return no more