When love was killed from the start
no wonder I had no heart.
Hate had to do. It means I cry
for help somewhere through our skies
for a love that has no end--
that I pray will help me mend.
Who would have guessed that these words--
thanks to you when deeply heard--
would bless me like morning dew
loving who may love me too.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
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