Like a broken instrument, with promise and with sorrow,
I walk the earth with time of borrow.

There’s hope that time will play anew,
though dreams are rare to show on cue.

Awake I keep though half asleep
would a world like this be worth a plea:
Let be truth in a tranquil sea.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 8th, 2004 at 22:58 and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.