Here I am <br />listening to the sounds <br />of young lovers <br />whispering sweet nothings <br />to the midday winds <br /> <br />Here I watch <br />the little Maya's chirp <br />over the green grasses <br />where I lay <br /> <br />Here I hear <br />the water flow <br />from the little angel's mouth <br />mounted on the fountain <br /> <br />Here I sit <br />in this wooded chair <br />listening <br />to the heartbeat of Fate <br />as i think of you <br />and the way <br />you held my hand <br />and the way <br />I smile when I am <br />with you <br /> <br />But the young lovers <br />have gone home now <br />and the Maya's <br />have flown, <br />the angels have shut <br />their mouths <br />and the wooded chairs <br />are shattered to pieces <br /> <br />Still I am here <br />listening to the heartbeat <br />of Fate <br />as I think of you <br />and the way you held <br />my hand <br /> <br /> <br />*ming<br /><br />Inday Prising<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/circles-19/
