Life Is A Shopping Aisle Poem by poem whore

I Hear your voice in the misty wind
calling my name out in vain
for the light you seen in me is now faded into gray
I have charged the hill and climbed my sole
to find I am just another lost and lonely ghost

remembering the sound of your voice in the dark
guides me to are own heart
each having it's own half but never whole
unless we are together
must we be apart
is that what fate has for us in the store
of lifes aisle