I was born to tambourine.
I don’t have one, but there’s a joyful shaking in my heart,
And it wants ta come on out.
I was born for the Golden hour.
Wildflowers on a hill, sunlight gleaming through the grasses.
Honey warmth sticks to my soul.
I was born to love, love, love.
My friends, my dears, we’ll embrace and our hearts will snuggle up.
I can’t contain this delight.
At times it quakes,
The quivering joy.
At times it burns,
The glowing light.
At times it aches,
The pounding heart.
The soul, it yearns,
Love, beauty, truth.
No comments:
Post a Comment