The psychological necessity,
Of lending, an amorous hand.
Poetry cradles the poet
In a motherly fashion,
Wiping, away some of the tears
That have already,
Gone out of fashion.
The psychological necessity,
Of lending, an amorous hand.
Poetry cradles the poet
In a motherly fashion,
Wiping, away some of the tears
That have already,
Gone out of fashion.
From Greece to our times,They have sung to LoveMillions of times,Never giving up,The Hope of finding it.
Not to harm those around us,Or make innocent Roses, cry.
You feel lost,Instead of grass,Walking sadly, amongst the weeds.
Turned my silent days,From sad to glad,That is why I loved you,Ever so,More than words can tellOr humans know.
Is it to stamp our wee voice,In the Universe of our choice?Or to live in a make believe world?Where nothing is real, only absurd.
Think of Them when you are feeling lonely,Helps from falling totally apart.