When is it my time?
I have read words in
saddened poetry crying,
when will I find the
love
that shall come to thee
willingly, longing to
unite.
When is it my time?
When is it my time?
To be held, to be
comforted
when the daily toils
overcome thee,
my time to feel a burning love again,
to join together our hands
not for
stability, but for
a bond.
When is it my time?
When is it my time?
To gaze into eyes that
show the
love without a single
word spoken,
a look of love that
succumbs us two,
the sensational sensuous
feeling that
comes over their entire
bodies that yearn.
And, when is it my time?
And, when is it my time?
Not to worry for
another moment,
of events that is a
heavy burden to
thy mind of one that harbors the fear of
this journey in a devastating
world that
threatens the existence
of thy heart…
that is apart from thou arms.
- Rhoda Galgiani
that is apart from thou arms.
- Rhoda Galgiani