I have never found it easy
To name my love for you;
We were so close I never saw the need;
The little boy that cried that night,
My suitcase I had packed,
I could no more leave than from myself secede;
With our humor and machismo
We, outward, faced the world
Together, we would laugh or we would fight;
But now those things we must defend,
Have multiplied and grown,
And age comes creeping in September's light;
We ever keep our swords unsheathed,
For each and for ourselves,
And others that we deem within our sway;
Our celebrated chivalry
Is part of who we are,
Old Man, you know, had wanted it that way;
Though we never would have guessed it,
We have lost once or twice
And scars have given both a hardened view;
I anguish over all those times
I hurt you with my words;
I'd rather have them back than...
I'd rather have them back, I'd rather have them back...
Happy Birthday.
Find him my brother. Time can heal ... even wounds that are deep.
ReplyDeletePeace,
ridwan