Come to me imperfect
In stigma and disregard
Tired after a hard days work
Torn by your inner questions
Desperate from the things
That you cannot change
However you wanted
Or even have tried to
Come to me imperfect
In fear and need
Woken from nightmare
Suffering from hang-over
Or from a simple flu
Feeling ashamed and lost
Feeling worn out and used
Feeling your own age
Come to me imperfect
Fall into my hands
Let me be a healing herb
An assuring presence
An artist with gentle brush
Painting out the tired lines
A goblet of heated wine
To chase off the winter chill
(That’s what a woman is for)
Come to me imperfect
And be my guest
Let me feel you might need me
If for a shortest while
Let me bring you back to perfection
And let you fly
Back my exotic bird
Back to your far away heaven
(That’s what a man is for)
That’s how predictable I am
In my own imperfection
Come to me imperfect...
© Copyright: Елена Китаева, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111120100010
Свидетельство о публикации №111120100010
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