I Write Poetry Because That Is What I Do
Though I am to become dust
That part of me which was my heart,
Having been loved by you,
Will somewhere become air
And in a soft breeze
Will make someone smile, not knowing why.
Though I am to become dust
That part of me which was my heart,
Having been loved by you,
Will somewhere become air
And in a soft breeze
Will make someone smile, not knowing why.