When?
When is my word a part of you?
Only when it is said.
For if you never hear it,
I'll know my word is dead.
When is my love a part of you?
Only when it is free.
For if you never feel it,
I'll know it's still with me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.