A quiet storm, within one's soul,
either hides within or seeks control.
It was long ago, it was far away,
I was so much younger than today.
It was down on the corner in the middle of the block,
a smile that looked so nice, by the way, they talk.
Now you close your eyes and you walk away,
with tears that you hide from what I might say.
Now dreams haunt my sleep, from a memory,
that could hurt all the others, but can not hurt me.
Don't stop me my love, as I walk away.
Don't ask me. Don't stand in the way.
When you look to the night sky, when you're all alone,
does it take you back to the time, when you felt you were home.
Like a quiet storm forever within my soul,
neither hides within nor seeks control.
© Copyright 2016 Steve Fettinger. All rights reserved.