The Colours
of Her Soul
.
of Her Soul
.
.
Something
so Exotic
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
You are the wondrous ways
And everything within it
To you my feelings play
Wherever it seems fit
Today is not tomorrow
And nothing is the same
Each way to ways borrow
It is our lives game
Something so exotic
To places a moment on
A world full of anecdotic
Until the years are gone
Nights are little wild
Into my life today
They used to be so mild
But now their full of play
You are my woman now
We need to be two
Why we managed and how
I haven't got a clue
But everything has turned
And makes now more sense
Old bridges have been burned
And brought away the tense
You are the wondrous ways
And everything within it
To you my feelings play
Wherever it seems fit
We have no way to know
What makes a story good
It's quite like yes and no
What's done and what should...
so Exotic
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
You are the wondrous ways
And everything within it
To you my feelings play
Wherever it seems fit
Today is not tomorrow
And nothing is the same
Each way to ways borrow
It is our lives game
Something so exotic
To places a moment on
A world full of anecdotic
Until the years are gone
Nights are little wild
Into my life today
They used to be so mild
But now their full of play
You are my woman now
We need to be two
Why we managed and how
I haven't got a clue
But everything has turned
And makes now more sense
Old bridges have been burned
And brought away the tense
You are the wondrous ways
And everything within it
To you my feelings play
Wherever it seems fit
We have no way to know
What makes a story good
It's quite like yes and no
What's done and what should...
.
