The Thief
The Thief
Would you believe on a quiet Sunday afternoon,
An unseen thief is stalking my room.
He holds my memories in his hand,
Oh, I just don’t understand.
I want to revisit the kiss on the hill;
Was he blonde, blue eyed, what did he say that filled,
Filled my heart with hope and joy,
He has stolen the details of my first-loved boy.
When did we walk through those colored night lights,
Was it a fair, a town, a vacation sight?
Was it you or another, and what year was that?
The thief has my memory crumpled neath his hat.
Can I sing tomorrow what I sing today,
Please, oh, please don’t steal that away,
Would you believe on a quiet Sunday afternoon?
An unseen thief is stalking my room?
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2019
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