Too Much To Pay

It's always too quiet, when a heart is mending,
Tears are silent, even when neverending;
All the hopes lie still for rending,
Neither one of us did much intending.

So much gone away;
Wish that you would stay,
Just an hour, maybe a day:
Is that too much to pay?

It's always worst, late at night, when I'd like to hold you tight,
Somehow sorrow hates the light;
Prefers to hide its swollen eyes,
More comfortable in shadow's disguise.

So much gone today,
Wish there was a way,
Just tomorrow after we play,
Is that too much to pay?

It's always too quiet, when a heart is mending,
Tears are silent, even when neverending;
All the hopes lie still for rending,
Neither one of us did much intending.

So much gone away;
Wish that you would stay,
Just an hour, maybe a day:
Is that too much to pay?



January 7, 2009, for She Who Cannot Be Named.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.