© Erik Brickman 2005
I walk among rock and ruin.
Unsure to what I am doing.
Astray, lost in Longing Land.
There was a time, a hand to hold
Longing eyes stood with me, bold.
Hope is the last to abandon, in Longing Land.
Blind am I to your forgetfulness of me.
At the frozen river, that of love ran so free.
I slip on the ice of memories, in Longing Land.
For truly, as far as I am now from your heart.
Even you could not believe, to become apart.
That I would fall this far, in Longing Land.
In your hands I wish to bow my head and sleep.
Not here, where snow builds all too deep.
A stranger am I, in Longing Land.
Poetry by Erik Brickman
Read 1063 times
Written on 2005-09-26 at 14:34
Tags Sadness
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Longing Land
I walk among rock and ruin.
Unsure to what I am doing.
Astray, lost in Longing Land.
There was a time, a hand to hold
Longing eyes stood with me, bold.
Hope is the last to abandon, in Longing Land.
Blind am I to your forgetfulness of me.
At the frozen river, that of love ran so free.
I slip on the ice of memories, in Longing Land.
For truly, as far as I am now from your heart.
Even you could not believe, to become apart.
That I would fall this far, in Longing Land.
In your hands I wish to bow my head and sleep.
Not here, where snow builds all too deep.
A stranger am I, in Longing Land.
Poetry by Erik Brickman
Read 1063 times
Written on 2005-09-26 at 14:34
Tags Sadness
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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