Words cannot even whisper,
Paintings can’t even picture
The apologies I have to say.
Dreams can’t be dreamt
Times could not be anymore well spent
Without you here to stay.
The deeds I have done
The rivers that have overrun.
A poet’s write
Could not make this right
To catch every single little tear
For you.
YOU ARE READING
The Atrium
PoetryAs the river of life flows right through, collecting at the delta towards the Atrium of my soul
