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Articles: Poetry | Seasons of heart
- Mr. Flying Ace
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The nights are cold dark and dry
church bells ringing people pass by
hands in my pockets, I whistle with pride
girl, for you my heart still die
bustling marketplace and glittering lights
children playing along roadside
walking down the street I wonder as to why
I seek for you and you try to hide
Clubs are busy couples dance all night
Men sip beer playing cards in dim light
Going in a tram I keep thinking all while
When I come home tired you’ll greet me with a smile
I slip into the bed and dreams touch the sky
A few hours later the day comes by
I go to my work singing with pride
Girl for you my heart still die.
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