I tend to stumble, I tend to fall-
Nothing every works my way.
I tend to hide, I tend to run away,
For the thought of your love scares me.
Trust me, I know that you love me-
But it scares me to death to think of it.
I'm afraid to admit that I love you, too.
Can you give me time to come to terms
WIth the fact that our love is real?
Give me time to let my broken heart take wing.
Give me time, and I can let our love shine.
Just give me time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem