the memory of your eyes
when you smile
the way you talk to me
only through your eyes, sometimes
or through the tone of your voice
the way you look at me
when you think I am not looking
and the way you confide in me
even with things that seem small
but are not revealed day to day
my imagination is a jester
the smile
the eyes
the words
the tone of voice
maybe they have no real meaning,
only the one I give.
And I walk away with them
in my memory
as I can not give anymore.
Niciun comentariu:
Trimiteți un comentariu