walked your cobble streets;
even I saw your jaded face.
When I looked to you years before,
you danced with me in the streets.
Your boulevards told a story;
I didn't think I would ever leave.
There I was dancing in Kentville,
so often I looked for you;
I thought that I would never leave.
Once again I walk the streets,
searching for your face alone.
My body has aged 100 years,
you have left me years before;
I walk your streets-I walk alone.
DannYetman
http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/
0 comments:
Post a Comment