needle in hays

The spirit of the flood. Spirits live everywhe...

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A needle at the bottom of hays,
Our love runs that way;
Where a chance of being together,
Is just a wish next to never.

Won’t find a place in time,
When I can call you mine;
There are gap of hays between us,
That no one could ever possibly pass.

If ever I could hold you near,
Then things would be good and clear;
But it’s very hard to find,
That against the world love-of-a-kind.

A great love without a way,
Is just a crazy game we play;
And no one could ever tell,
If there’s still love we can expect.

We are bound by endless love we have,
But religion and race separate us , my love;
There ain’t a thing I could ever do,
But believe in someday it’s still me and you.

Maria Ceniza Rivera Marcial Copyright ©2007

About cenizamarcial

I am a medical representative by profession, and a writer by passion. I also run an online fashion retailing shop. My entire being roots from the unconditional love and perseverance of my family.
This entry was posted in dreams and reality, essays, labyrinth of the mind, love and lost, Uncategorized, weepings of the heart and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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