My hand extended an offering,
Hoping and waiting,
then knowing it was not accepted,
but brushed off as not good enough.
I did my part,
and waited for yours to impart,
and all I heard was the silence of
a thousand doves fly away,
and their wings beat upon my cheek,
and made me weep a river of mediocre tears that spilled down into nothing.
No comments:
Post a Comment