I hear your voice,
In ever changing whispers...
What it is you feel,
On those days you choose to say...
Words you wish me to believe are real.
But I can not trust,
What it is I can not feel.
Or be made to believe...
A feeling that is not there,
Can be made for me to know is real.
Unspoken is that touch that reaches my heart.
Silent are those embers that warm and linger.
Not stirred by words...
Just to have them heard.
Unspoken is that touch that reaches my heart.
I hear your voice,
In ever changing whispers...
What it is you feel,
On those days you choose to say...
Words you wish me to believe are real.
Unspoken is that touch that reaches my heart.
And a passion within me just will not burn...
Or start,
Without a spark to ignite the flame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem