Can’t you feel the inevitable,
As it comes creeping close,
Odds become insurmountable,
Hope appears to be lost.
~~~~
Home can feel, so restricting
When by me, you are not near;
Cooped up alone, in the place,
I dreamed together, we’d be here
.
I’m trapped, without you
Cut off from a world, outside my window,
And no-one can cross, the threshold,
-Because you are the key…
Won’t you free me?
.
Love is a virus,
That works, its way, inside us;
Making us hot, but blow cold,
Opening up, while closing door
.
I’m trapped, without you
Cut off from a world, outside my window,
And no-one can cross, the threshold,
-Because you are the key…
Won’t you free me?
.
Confined, to my bed,
Thoughts of you, run through my head,
Fever is up, and high,
Still can’t get you, out of my mind
.
I’m trapped, without you
Cut off from a world, outside my window,
And no-one can cross, the threshold,
-Because you are the key…
Won’t you free me?
.
When the work is not viewed and shared, the artist loses hope, and the birth of new art ceases to be imagined. I wrote this last night and felt it was quite apt…, hardly anyone reads or likes my posts, I guess “you’ve got to make your own kind of music….”
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