Kevin M. Kirker
On Every March 9th
my footsteps haven't reachedyou in some timebut this day is your birthdaythought i'd stop byand every spring when i doi carry some presents for youand after they're openedyou still keep the boxescause they're special toobut trinkets can'tshow you how muchi wish i saw you every daywhen i can'tand still one gift remainsthat old refrainyou always call your favoritei start to playbut i haven't sung in a yearso my hands are quaking with fearbut then my eyelids shuti envision your smilemy fingers composeLetras de cancionesthough it strains me so muchlike clockwork, i return to herewhere you were placed below the groundbecause i still think you'll come back if i say''please?''and you don't answer backbut that's okayi'll ask on every march 9thyou might someday
From Letras Mania