Nov 02


each blade of grass
was grown
for you
these birds sing your song
this road goes nowhere just for you
the sun gives you the gift of dawn

these trees bear fruit
so you
may eat
this stream babbles your name
these shoes were sewn for your weary feet
this door opened when you came.

my world was built
for you
to find
to have your "one" be "two"
I sit and wait to hear your name
And somewhere you wait for me too.

About the Author: LadyMidnight
"There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemmingway