There's a picture of the sun on my wall
It's rising high above me, or maybe on the fall
I really should know what the sun doing
For I was there when it was coming or maybe going
But the thing that gets me, makes me recall not a rise or a wane
Is not the importance of time repeating events again and again
It's that the picture I imagined was all for someone I love
And it's being on that wall means the sun's still above
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment