Walking Away
Farewell to the figs that are dropping.
The scent of sweet apples fading.
We have no choice but leaving.
We are walking, Walking Away.
I stood beneath the tree that bore the secrets,
Ripe and round with promise.
I reached up my hand
Toward the kingdom of God.
Farewell to the figs that are dropping,
The scent of sweet apples fading.
We have no choice but leaving.
We are walking, Walking Away.
To his curious tongue I passed the nectar.
I saw it lift my husbands eyes open.
To a new dimension
Of pleasure and pain.
Farewell to the figs that are dropping,
The scent of sweet apples fading.
We have no choice but leaving.
We are walking, Walking Away.