The grass withered and the flower faded,
The wind had blown and the season had changed,
Some things could not escape comprehension,
He who was born would soon succumb to death.
The wind had blown and the season had changed,
Some things could not escape comprehension,
He who was born would soon succumb to death.
His sweetest grin turned to a bitter frown,
A joyful dance turned to a mournful cry,
Like cutting down a tree from its big roots,
Throwing it to the hungry little mites.
A joyful dance turned to a mournful cry,
Like cutting down a tree from its big roots,
Throwing it to the hungry little mites.
Neither of them said, “Farewell my dear”,
It left his mind groping for a reason,
“Was it rightful?” He was asking himself,
“That she had left without saying goodbye?”
It left his mind groping for a reason,
“Was it rightful?” He was asking himself,
“That she had left without saying goodbye?”
When she had needed him desperately,
He was not there to bring comfort and love,
He tried to reach her by his heart and mind,
But then he knew, it could not give her warmth.
He was not there to bring comfort and love,
He tried to reach her by his heart and mind,
But then he knew, it could not give her warmth.
You could not hug a thought neither a dream,
Nor talk to the memories that linger,
Even if you try to re-live the past,
You can’t revive what has long been gone.
Nor talk to the memories that linger,
Even if you try to re-live the past,
You can’t revive what has long been gone.
As I cringed tightly to my soft pillow,
Fresh tears rolled down silently in the night
Over a love that grew tired of fighting;
But kept searching on for its destined place.
Fresh tears rolled down silently in the night
Over a love that grew tired of fighting;
But kept searching on for its destined place.
By Arnel Oroceo
From the “Concealed Passion” (A Compilation)
Copyright © 2009, Arnel Oroceo All Rights Reserved
From the “Concealed Passion” (A Compilation)
Copyright © 2009, Arnel Oroceo All Rights Reserved
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