Sometimes they are more like years.
You rap your knuckles on solid wood,
Calling to a forest that won’t appear.
You wear schoolgirl skirts instead of a crown.
And there are days, my dear,
When you will wonder
If you will ever walk from floorboards to snow.
You’ll be asked to take it sight unseen
That beyond the summer rain
There was winter wind,
And sisters take teatime
Between lost minutes.
We doubters, we can still be saints--
We’ll still find our love and wonder
When the portal gapes,
When we touch life’s scars.Statistics: Posted by Lily of Archenland — Mon May 15, 2017 9:14 pm
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