#16 of 100 Passion
Current mood: hopeful Current music:no music only quiet
#16 of 100 Passion
Passion
She hates waking in the morning,
to that beating in her chest.
Reminiscence of a broken heart.
Of passion at it's best.
She draws the covers over her head
and tries hard to pretend.
She's still asleep dreaming
and not at the end.
The story will change.
Surely dreams do come true.
The happy ending yet to come.
As the sunlight keeps breaking through.
Sadly she pulls back the covers
as she slowly rises.
She curses the day.
Void of surprises.
Each day the same as yesterday.
Bitter and icy cold.
The tears warm her face.
But her heart weary and old.
It seems like tomorrow.
Or is it today?
Time is of little concern.
Since you went away.
Passion is to be blamed.
For without it there is no fire.
No flame within this heart.
No burning desire.
If she could move through the day.
Feeling no tears nor pain.
No loss in her heart.
Nothing lost, nothing gained.
But passion there is,
and always will be.
In the hearts and souls,
of all, you and me.
Hearts meant to be broken.
Feeling sadness and sorrow.
Each new day begins again.
And the same for tomorrow.
But passion springs hope.
And faith from above.
A new dawn of dreams.
Of laughter and love.
The grieving will end
in a matter of time.
For passion knows not
the end of the line.
The healing begins.
As heart strings unite.
So she dreams again.
Each and every night.
Then one day these dreams
become happy again.
And when the sun rises
she prays they not end.
Copyright © 2006 By DJW
#16 of 100 Passion
Passion
She hates waking in the morning,
to that beating in her chest.
Reminiscence of a broken heart.
Of passion at it's best.
She draws the covers over her head
and tries hard to pretend.
She's still asleep dreaming
and not at the end.
The story will change.
Surely dreams do come true.
The happy ending yet to come.
As the sunlight keeps breaking through.
Sadly she pulls back the covers
as she slowly rises.
She curses the day.
Void of surprises.
Each day the same as yesterday.
Bitter and icy cold.
The tears warm her face.
But her heart weary and old.
It seems like tomorrow.
Or is it today?
Time is of little concern.
Since you went away.
Passion is to be blamed.
For without it there is no fire.
No flame within this heart.
No burning desire.
If she could move through the day.
Feeling no tears nor pain.
No loss in her heart.
Nothing lost, nothing gained.
But passion there is,
and always will be.
In the hearts and souls,
of all, you and me.
Hearts meant to be broken.
Feeling sadness and sorrow.
Each new day begins again.
And the same for tomorrow.
But passion springs hope.
And faith from above.
A new dawn of dreams.
Of laughter and love.
The grieving will end
in a matter of time.
For passion knows not
the end of the line.
The healing begins.
As heart strings unite.
So she dreams again.
Each and every night.
Then one day these dreams
become happy again.
And when the sun rises
she prays they not end.
Copyright © 2006 By DJW