Devoid

Thursday, August 28, 2003:

Warm is the wind that blows on my cheek
Soft is the grass laid beneath my feet
Sad is your voice as it finds its way to my ears
Cold are your eyes, even as they are full of warm tears

Where did all the smiles go
Lost upon another day
Where did the sun go
What happened to its golden ray

Cold grows the wind, as I spite it with my cheek
Dead is the grass, wallowing beneath my feet
No longer is your voice sad
No longer are your eyes cold
Now I remember the times we had
Now everything is nothig like the days of old



Chris // 8/28/2003

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