Saturday, October 10, 2009

What my heartbeat wants...

I saw she who played in her Sunday gather dress
outside her house by the white picket fence.
She was chasing butterflies with a net in her hand.
I would stand there catching them in a tin coffee can.
And she'd say,

"Don't ever let them go,
because I tell you so.
They're what my heartbeat wants.
I'll put them in a picture frame in the hall."

When we got a little older we'd go traveling afar.
We'd drive east fifty-two and we'd sleep in my car.
'Wake up in the morning and have to find our way back,
'cause we'd gotten ourselves lost when the sky went black.
And she'd say,

"Don't ever let me go,
because I tell you so.
You're what my heartbeat wants.
I'll put you in a picture frame in the hall."

And now I walk right down the hallway just to see her pictures of the butterflies and me.
And when I stand before them I can feel her heart beating for me.

by Wade Johnston

1 comment:

  1. Tá namorando, tá namorando, tá namorando!

    Lindo o poema! Vou mandar pro meu amigo escocês.

    Beijo.

    ReplyDelete