Beaty always has an end,
But we live on beyond the bend.
Hoping to come round and send,
One more message, to make mend.
Words unspoken, words unsaid.
Words once heavy, but now you bear,
For you always have something left,
What you never knew when they left.
Words we carry on and on,
Until we meet the end.
Words we hope they never want,
As they move onto the bend.
YOU ARE READING
Often confusing
PoesíaSecond part to a muses musings because wattpad has a story limit. . . I mean an enthralling book of stories
