No time, love
there’s no time to waste,
the time’s almost gone.
I don’t want to but I have too,
I say goodbye it will be my last.
life’s too short to waste crying,
but the pain’s too great.
it’s time to go.
I never wanted it to be this way,
but it has to be.
the suffering will end.
sleep now love,
it’s over now
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Seasonal Lust | 0 | 09/20/2010 |
| Music | 3 | 04/29/2010 |
| Said the firefly to the bumble-bee. | 0 | 04/19/2010 |
| alone | 0 | 10/09/2009 |
| ode to… | 0 | 10/09/2009 |
| No time, love | 0 | 10/09/2009 |
| soulmates | 1 | 07/14/2009 |
| Inside | 1 | 07/06/2009 |
| Us | 1 | 05/17/2009 |
| Rebellion | 0 | 05/17/2009 |
| Fading | 1 | 07/06/2009 |
| Judgments | 1 | 05/15/2009 |
| Witches | 2 | 05/15/2009 |
| In Plain Sight | 0 | 05/15/2009 |
| Luna | 0 | 05/15/2009 |
| sol solis | 0 | 05/15/2009 |
| The gateway | 0 | 07/06/2009 |
| a new kind of love | 0 | 05/15/2009 |
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