Promise, The

Folder: 
Love

A promise is a woman who lays in front of me

With open arms she reaches and makes me want to be

A king, a prince, a conqueror, a pirate, or a rogue

Or with kilts and bagpipes and a highland brogue.



Could I resist such beauty and then be called a fool

Or should I taste of her sweet wine and lose my will to rule?

The peace that passes understanding is what you offer me.

When enveloped in your arms you abate my misery.



My soul is rent and in such pain I've never known before,

Excess love as hard to bear as the cross the Rabbi bore.

Still I love and still I fail to carry all I may.

My cup is full, my heart is too. I wish it all could stay,



But, alas, no one can bear a pain as great as this

And carry on their daily life without some sign of stress.

So lay, sweet person, stay there and give me all you can.

I'll bear my cross as best I can, for I am just a man.

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