To draw it, I don’t have the paint
To explain you, I don’t have the words
I don’t have the voice, to tell you
What you mean to me
And the more I understand
The more I feel the urge
To explain you, that I doubt
That I can never live without you
I don’t have the carelessness to mention it
Not the pen to draw you
I am missing the intellect to understand
How beautiful you are
And the more I understand
The more I want to notify
That you are the best in life
Before you came I was alone
To sing to you
I don’t have the sound
To note it I don’t have the paper
How can I hold this
Unbelievable amazing beauty
That I have with you
And the more I think about it
The more it’s clear to me
That the longer I’ve known you
Nothing is the way it used to be
To explain you, I don’t have the words
I don’t have the voice, to tell you
What you mean to me
And the more I understand
The more I feel the urge
To explain you, that I doubt
That I can never live without you
I don’t have the carelessness to mention it
Not the pen to draw you
I am missing the intellect to understand
How beautiful you are
And the more I understand
The more I want to notify
That you are the best in life
Before you came I was alone
To sing to you
I don’t have the sound
To note it I don’t have the paper
How can I hold this
Unbelievable amazing beauty
That I have with you
And the more I think about it
The more it’s clear to me
That the longer I’ve known you
Nothing is the way it used to be
J.W
1 comment:
Your poem reminded another poem from Rolf Facobsen- The silence Afterwards:
"Be done and come home
To the silence afterwards..
The silence that lives in the grass
On the underside of each blade
And in the blue space between the stones......."
sorry , do not remember the rest.I am aging,lol...
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