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Other Peoples words


no title
wishing more
a memory
I wonder

Wishing more


I would gladly slip into your room, if given half the chance

To reach out and take you by the hand, join you in romance.

I did it once inside a dream before your image slowly faded

into the edges of my fantasy where the area is shaded.

Do I sense an understanding between us?

Something that we both share?

Or do I read too much, into something that isn't there?

Why do these thoughts invade my mind?

We are friends and nothing more.

And why do I feel nervous about knocking on your door?

Confusion reigns inside me, yearnings have made me a slave.

I never dreamed I might want more than one and I just don’t know how to behave.

If I ever reach out to hold you, would you simply just walk away?

                  Or would you hold your arms out too, meeting me half way?

Steve Warrington (c) 2006