I yearn for songs that have not been written,
As I count minutes that have already passed.
While these hands attempt to compose thoughts,
I see truth exposed in a light too clear,
My pen fades out…
Tomorrow may never come.
a.l.c
Poetry and words
pouringtruth 
I love this. It has a feeling of weariness to it.
Thanks for the follow.
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Powerful! ❤
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Yes, it will! And those songs will, too! Be the composer! ❤
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💖💖
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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You caught me with the first line already. Great job!
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😊
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This is a beautifully written poem.
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pen fades as ink dies…. but human being fades as hope dies….
for us we have not seen the tomorrow, but tomorrow is a hope for us which keep us willing to live today
great post …. actually beautiful and wonderful!
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Thank you 😊
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welcome
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Such good poetry.
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Thank you so much for reading 😊
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Reblogged this on Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie.
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Love this poem!
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