Come To Me

 

 

The Flowers that bloom
Lying on the hill
Wait for the Lark’s song,
Oh, to hear the trill.

Sing to me dear,
Of flowers and love,
Of your heart in your hand
And turtle doves.

For I am now without you,
Waiting to hear your song,
Oh come to me, come to me,
It’s been ever so long.

I am now alone,
Lying with flowers on the hill,
Holding my breath,
Imagining your sweet features still.

Oh, come to me, come to me
Be not alone,
Hear now my plea,
This place is my womb.

The earth’s fair face
Is fading away,
As time gathers storm clouds,
They darken our days.

So come to me, come to me,
Ere time has passed,
Let’s weather the days,
Let’s linger at last.

 

 

        

Kay Ekwall ©

      

 

 

 

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