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Monday, March 4, 2013

She.... is not me...

She may be the face I can`t forget,
A trace of pleasure or regret,
May be my treasure or
The price I have to pay.

She may be the song that summer sings,
May be the chill that autumn brings,
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day.

She may be the beauty or the beast,
May be the famine or the feast,
May turn each day into a
Heaven or a hell.

She may be the mirror of my dream,
A smile reflected in a stream,
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell.

She who always seems so happy in a crowd,
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud,
No one`s allowed to see them
When they cry.

She may be the love that cannot hope to last,
May come to me from shadows of the past,
That I remember till the day I die.

She may be the reason I survive,
The why and wherefore I`m alive,
The one I`ll care for through the
Rough and rainy years.

Me, I`ll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I`ve got to be.
The meaning of my life is she, she, she--.

Let's have a break!