i hold my hand to the windowpane
beckoned by something in the rain
when it comes to love i am such a fool
but doesn't this feel cool
i can see your face beyond the storm
to the glass i'm sure my hand feels warm
when it comes to love i have no hope
but you could show me the ropes
i want you and your impossible love
be the moonlit dream i've been dreaming of
i can't let this die buried in the sand
your soft lips pressed against mine
like the windowpane to my hand
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Author:
Noah Malice (
Offline) - Published: July 22nd, 2020 09:48
- Comment from author about the poem: don't we all have a soft side
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 47
Offline)
Comments4
Even the most stoic of hearts may be warmed, given the right counterpart : )
tears of raindrops on windows bring out the melancholy often it seems in love songs
hope tinged with sadness, one wonders if you are thinking of someone out of your league here or perhaps they're 'spoken for'
May that love come to you and be forever with you.
Andy
“Your soft lips pressed against mine, like the windowpane to my hand”
Beautiful.
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