The Stream

The Stream

I sat by the side of the stream,
thinking of you,
wondering where you were,
ann thinking of what I would do.
Now, that you are gone,
there is nothing left,
All I want is one memory,
one glance to be kept.
I then I think,
what about this stream,
the bubbling water,
the slow memories rising, from its steam.
Its splashes over rocks,
turning into a foaming lather,
and I wonder,
when have my thoughts ever been the sadder.
I know you would not want me this way,
I know that your heart would die to see me in pain,
but it is now my comfort,
it is with me every night, and every day.
When I close my eyes,
it lulls me to sleep,
when I am awake,
it forces me to weep.
When the slow, beating of my heart,
bleed the words onto this empty page,
I know that I can't go on,
I can living this way.
I sun is setting
on this oh-so sorrowful tale,
the sun is setting on me,
and I know I won't prevail.
Save me now,
if you care,
save me now,
cause I won't be there.
No longer will I sit by this brooke,
no longer will I sit with my tears as company,
I won't be alone,
with me, this song, I took,
as I slipped away,
into the mist,
as I slipped away,
and now you hear, the slit.