Art & Poetry copyright © 2011 Atlanta Marie Carrera
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
I talk to you softly, when no one’s around,
Past a quiet lake, near the old oak trees.
I tell you my thoughts, that no one else knows.
I tell you my feelings, that I never let show.
I tell you ordinary things that happen each day,
so you won’t miss out while you’ve been away.
I tell you my worries, my dreams and my fears,
and I give you myself, as I have always done.
You fill me with peace; You fill me with grace,