Words that cannot be spoken,
That which are to be left within.
Yet they prick and prowl,
Making you feel pretty foul.
If only that breeze would blow,
If only I can sway with glory,
Now that I have fully grown.
Yet nebulously I groan,
Wondering where all that has gone.
Time, the enigma, the mystic,
Leaves me to the lees.
How I wish, how I wish.
I want some serendipity,
And some good old pity,
And yes someone pretty!!
Oh! can I pluck my lashes
And blow to the surges?
Will you carry it far, far
Through the alleys of my heart?
Listen and search within.
