Everything good is lost
Counted them anywhere I went
In a rose vase they lay frosted
With all my tears they descend
My heart is no more content
I can no longer about this pretend…
My soul hear all their torment
No matter where again I went…
In the streets I feel their pulse
To run is my first impulse…
But I cover my eyes instead with repulse…
With black ink on paper I hear again their pulse…
Again with life they breathe alive
More and more they come and later just survive.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
copyright@2004