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where is that tennis ball? That is the question I ask you. No not neccesarily you but others.
I never had the ball and you certainly never gave it back to me.
So where is that ball now?
I stand in the centre of my court, waiting gazing and waiting.
I do all the running, I do all the work.
The hurt is always in my heart
and yet you return no affections
and I don't think I expect any now...
I still wait just like before
as I am waiting now,
and forever more...
perpetual is my love
but what does it matter?
Love can not be forged, it is a matter of the heart
so I wait and linger all alone
under the stars and gazing at the moon
I know that ball will never fly back....
but if it does I will be here
Always giving
everything
and never receiving
anything
that is the story of my life
I feel like dropping the racket on the floor
not with a bang
but quietly and silently
so not to disturb you
and walk away....