I wander the streets through a curtain of rain
Leaving behind all my torment and pain.
I don't understand, and I guess I never will
But I'm sure the sun is rising
Up on top of the next hill.
So I've packed up my bags though I've nowhere to go.
And no one to turn to for nobody must know
All the anguish you feel when you're left by the one
Whom you've loved more than anyone since love was first begun.
Now my packs getting heavier with each weary mile.
I don't want to laugh and I've forgotten how to smile.
And I don't understand but then I guess I never will;
Still I'm sure the sun is shining out on top of the next hill.
Till then I'll wander the streets.....
The first I ever wrote and I still think it's true .
Kevin is right. I wish he had said where the flow is hindered
Reviewed by Kevin B (Reader)
Reviewed on November 24, 2002
I like the idea of this one but sometimes it seems like the flow is hindered. Its only one or two words that throw off the rhythm. A good write though.
Reviewed by Robert Birt (Reader)
Reviewed on November 6, 2002
Old principle, however very good and multi-personable.
Starting anew, you always know you made a mistake; pride allows backslide. Then it starts to work, and you know you were right.
lgl
Reviewed by claywoman
Reviewed on March 27, 2002
I hope you are setting all of these to music and recording a CD...If so, I will be the first in line to buy a copy!
Reviewed by Hanley Harding (Reader)
Reviewed on March 25, 2002
This is nice, Peter (though I am probably more of a "stickler" about polish, rhyme and meter than are you). The word pictures, here, touch the romantic in me. Lost love is tough on anyone, no matter what their demeanor speaks (or FAILS to speak) of their inner torment. But that hope keeps us going (most of us, anyway). Hanley
I like how you say that the sun is just around the next hill.
Lovely image you have created! Very inspirational indeed!
Sandie Angel :o)
Reviewed by Harley Davidson (Reader)
Reviewed on March 24, 2002
Beautiful write, Peter! Thanks for the advice to! :-)
Reviewed by Tomas Teoma Ughdair
Reviewed on March 24, 2002
Hi Peter
Its a long road being a minstrel,in more ways than one,
Suppose its a case of cure thy self physician
Sing a happy song!, I only know sad ones!
Some day maybe!
Morchuis
A book-length psychodynamic study of pathological narcissism, relationships
with abusive narcissists, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder, using a new vocabulary.
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
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lgl
Lovely image you have created! Very inspirational indeed!
Sandie Angel :o)
Its a long road being a minstrel,in more ways than one,
Suppose its a case of cure thy self physician
Sing a happy song!, I only know sad ones!
Some day maybe!
Morchuis
Thanks,
Trixie Love