Poetry that thinks out loud
WITH FLOWERS IN MY HAND
I have walked a thousand miles
To see your face of stone.
Cried a thousand times before
As I have walked, alone.
I will walk until I die
To see your place of rest.
Though my body struggles now
My heart feels what is best.
Each step I take, takes so long
For I can barely stand.
But I will return to you
With flowers in my hand.
To see your face of stone.
Cried a thousand times before
As I have walked, alone.
I will walk until I die
To see your place of rest.
Though my body struggles now
My heart feels what is best.
Each step I take, takes so long
For I can barely stand.
But I will return to you
With flowers in my hand.
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WITH FLOWERS IN MY HAND
WITH FLOWERS IN MY HAND
