Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Feverish wandering, lost in silent splendor
Am I a healer,
Or just a pretender?
Walking down the twisting lane of days past,
Shall I thrown them away,
Or choose to make them last?
Memories patter like dainty feet,
I think of all the sweet nothings,
And I have second thoughts about the people I meet
I recollect on the way one's character grows,
What's next in my book?
Only heaven knows
Regrets peel away until I have none
I pick up the pieces,
Until they finally become one