Whether weather falls on our shoulders,
or flows beneath us as we sleep,
Never will I leave you to travel,
through storms or autumn's reap.
Spare a word for me, my dear,
While I still have ears to hear.
We cannot wait until it's too late,
to put words to our fear.
Love me none or love me true
it is all that you could ever do,
but let me know as I do you,
before time takes its due.
Call me friend or call me lover,
that we will not be without each other
to cry upon or lend a hand
when on our own feet we cannot stand.
Don't read my poetry, it blows.
This is me looking like a hobo in an Orange Leaf.
When was the last time you wrote anything?