I have a place I go to. I take my burdens and thoughts there.
It is the only thing strong enough to listen.
It's curved structure is a powerful rest. The walls, dark and dreary,
tell of older days. What would they say if they could speak?
Would they tell of budding love and growing friendship or would
it be a story of loss and betrayal?
Was it a refuge for runaway slaves or a scared teenager?
As I sit thinking of these past times I know that I have shared
every heartache, every joy, every fear. I have added my stories to
these walls and now they will speak of me.
The water skaters do the dances I have done. Graceful and quick.
The birds sing the songs I used to sing.
We are all bound together.
If you go there you will see me and then you will be part of it, too.
My sacret place
© Copyright: Анастсия Баховская, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104102300982
Свидетельство о публикации №104102300982
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