There was a time that you loved me.
When the look in your eyes spoke of passion and wonder.
A time nights became days
And sunsets blended to sunrises
What seemed like days of talking and walking..
Then life came to play and the demons peaked from the shadows
Yours, mine it didn’t seem to matter
Anymore who’s they were they were always there.
Now you don’t look into my eyes
The loves not behind what I see
only lies lurk, hidden truths fearful to leave the lips as they though just being words can kill this love…
Whispered thoughts of do I dare I?
Echoes of silence cloud my mind as slip back into the streaming thoughts and letters that fall from the sky….
Falling, failing, father forgive me.
“A life in progress.”
** A piece about sorrows and insecurity, deceit and love.
Just words put together in no specific order.Not a reflection of my current life.
Please remember to keep love in your heart always for the darkest nights can be warmed be its unseen fire.
Star light star bright the first star I see tonight.
You are the light of this knight, in the day I wander till dinner time comes, then off to the stories and PJs and Dancing sugar plum fairies.
The night however is mine to keep
No trolls or phones to constantly beep. The nights been ours for hours and ours to keep, lullabies, cradle,now off to sleep.
“A life in progress”
The morning chill came today for the first time this summer.
Her cool touch eased the day and
gave comfort as it stroked gardens of our home.
A gentle light towards the east gave way to the day as I brushed the light from eyes.
Such beauty caused by the passage of time, the breath in our bodies and the memories on our minds.
Today was made for you my love, the sun calls your name a thousand times before waking your sleeping body from it’s past life.
Come to me my sweet love and let me show this day made only for you. Come to me and let me show you how beautiful our world can be.
As we change and rearrange the shapes of ours lives.
It causes me great pause to digest the future in the wind.
To what end do we fill these voids with things and toys
Of girls or boys whispers and noise.
Shall we give it all away and start a new
No that’s been done and it’s no fun
it always just
More stuff and things
big fancy rings, but what
of what we create.
To paint or prose to heal others woes
or listen with eyes wide with Intent.
It’s all so strange as I enter the next stage and watch the colors wash away.
One minute a need, a want a glimmer of hope.
The next your dead, to worms you’ll be feed
All for a better rose
“Sometimes words continue to ring true long after they’ve been written and forgotten.”