What Irony
What irony-
tells both the sweetest
and most melancholic stories...
In the autumn of youth
lines cast in drifts past innocence
and extend beyond a child’s sight
in wonder of yesterday
Mourning the parting bird’s song
iron wings take flight
past a longing and wounded hand
the sum of a perfect trail, lost
Love disguised
a crawl between conception
and dust above a cold tomb
The broken heart still dreams
returning to once upon a time
as her lips brush against ghosts
Friends become foes
fueling the beast within
forgetting the heroic face
pretending flesh is already but ashes
as the dying lay open-mouthed in hunger
A sunken stream holds memories
reflective of golden paths
once rainbowed by a brilliant sun
the spirit now echoes in mere vapors
Seeds stolen and planted
in hopes of choking winter
waiting for breath-taking flowers
refusing the true giver of freedom
Days wear on in exile
as peace is exchanged
for a greedy man’s whore
and thorns invade the fire
that once fed the soul
Discord hovers over lament
until eyes hold infinite, the light of truth
outstretched on a flawless bed of ivory
poem by Kathy Dove
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Excerpt From Lamplight Symphony
On a winter's night, stars are cold and bright in the sky,
The slumber of the earth is pure and deep
From a distant wood, drifts the echo of a beast
The old man stirs and wakens in the night
He stands before his window gazing at the grave
Forgotten dreams are flashing through his weary mind
And though his life is empty, he pretends that she's still there
With hunger in his soul, he yearns for life and love gone by,
With memories his one and only joy
All he has to give, he would give to bring back the life,
And raise the one who lies beneath the snow
He lights a lamp and looks at pictures of the past
The faces of their youth still glow with new-found love,
But the picture's faded, and time has stolen youth away
With a spoken word that he thought he heard from her lips,
He felt another presence in the room,
He was filled with fear but filled with joy he arose
And turned to face the image that he knew
She stood before him and her hand reached out for his
A peaceful light shone in her eyes
She said she'd come to soothe him, and someday they'd be as one
She began to fade and her image disappeared,
So he was left alone to face the night,
Never in his life, had he been so held in awe,
As he faced the apparition of his wife
He stood before the window gazing at the grave,
And with a lightened heart he saw the first of dawn,
He knew that she was waiting, that someday they'd be as one
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lamplight Symphony
On a winter's night, stars are cold and bright in the sky,
The slumber of the earth is pure and deep
From a distant wood, drifts the echo of a beast
The old man stirs and wakens in the night
He stands before his window gazing at the grave
Forgotten dreams are flashing through his weary mind
And though his life is empty, he pretends that she's still there
With hunger in his soul, he yearns for life and love gone by,
With memories his one and only joy
All he has to give, he would give to bring back the life,
And raise the one who lies beneath the snow
He lights a lamp and looks at pictures of the past
The faces of their youth still glow with new-found love,
But the picture's faded, and time has stolen youth away
With a spoken word that he thought he heard from her lips,
He felt another presence in the room,
He was filled with fear but filled with joy he arose
And turned to face the image that he knew
She stood before him and her hand reached out for his
A peaceful light shone in her eyes
She said she'd come to soothe him, and someday they'd be as one
She began to fade and her image disappeared,
So he was left alone to face the night,
Never in his life, had he been so held in awe,
As he faced the apparition of his wife
He stood before the window gazing at the grave,
And with a lightened heart he saw the first of dawn,
He knew that she was waiting, that someday they'd be as one
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Into the Blue Memory
This is a poem not a song...
I wrote it like that on purpose,
that's because I wanted this poem to
sing to you like if it was being sung
like an opera, I wanted this to fill
your heart with poetry and song...
This was inspired by the song
'Ghost Love Score' by Nightwish
Into the Blue Memory
By: Adam M. Snow
A child will find the way,
in a night, and in a day,
with the moment still,
waking the dreams,
glorious and free,
into the blue memory.
Redeeming childhood,
upon advent dream,
A journey worth telling,
of this soon destiny.
Angels singing broken song,
can't help but sing along.
Open eyes of blinded sorrow,
looking towards the endless morrow.
Who is she, lost and cold,
with tales of truth to be told?
Stories of journey in the blue memory,
of a destined child of light and poverty.
A siren from the deep approached him,
spoke his dreams, his memory,
mend his broken heart,
pressed out like a key,
to reign with love and all victoriously.
Will he find true love,
shining down from above?
Lighting his way,
into the ever darkening day.
Nevermore does he ache,
when he sleep, he's still awake,
longing for true love,
cold and alone he waits,
waiting for that day,
that only love could portray.
Who is he, lost and cold,
with tales of truth to be told?
Stories of journey in the blue memory,
of a destined child of light and poverty.
A siren from the sea approached her,
spoke her dreams, her memory,
mend her broken heart,
free her from her curse,
to reign with love and all victoriously.
Will she find true love,
shining down from above?
Lighting her way,
into the ever darkening day.
The world she forsake,
when she sleep, she's still awake,
longing for her love,
on this dreary night,
waiting for that day,
that only love could portray.
Together they seek,
not self-effacing nor meek,
but the touch of pure love,
to mend their broken heart.
Together they search,
for themselves once lost,
with their vowing dreams the cost,
to find, there is only one,
riding throughout the wind,
being together passed the end,
falling into the arms,
of an angel's joyous charms,
to the sight of lovers birth,
reigning down all over the Earth.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To meet with love
Look on me and give your hand
We can to go along the street
This time to dreams, my autumn friend,
Let our love call us to meet.
Here hear we now the song of bird
And golden sunset blinds our eyes
Wondrous love without regret
We can to fly to autumn skyes.
I will believe that winter's ice
Don't can to touch our fragile hearts
The autumn gold it's higher price
So step by step, from paths to paths.
We go through ligt our autumn days
I see your look and hold your hand,
To meet with love on famous place
Here always autumn, without the end. 28/09/2009
From the collection ' Autumn Poems '
poem by Elena Shlaferman Elena Shlaferman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seasons
Spring days of birdcalls, old oak trees, and easy friends
of hiking and laughing with the family
Summer days of sunlight-dappled hillsides,
of scrub brush and the willow plants grown high.
Autumn days of cold breezes and lovely trees
of waiting for the winter, will it surprise us with snow?
Winter days of cold and longing for what is not there
of regrets over past deeds and short fallings
Years of happiness and naivete, and trust
of breaking things and discovering differences
Decades of experience and family
of lost trust, old friends, and new self
Lifetimes of sorted events and magic memories
of sorrow, hate, love, and lonely deaths
poem by Poet Dragon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Come To Me
Love, come to me in rose of red,
to lie upon my loveless bed ~
now filled with thorns of passions past,
into the wind, the thorns I cast.
Love, come to me in lilac hue,
with scented breath of lilac blue
and essence of love's lost repast ~
into the wind, lost love I cast.
Love, come to me in leaves of green,
with greening leaves of emerald sheen ~
awaiting in the brambling bough,
into the wind, I cast love now.
Love, come to me in yellowed fields,
lined with the golden daffodils ~
awaiting love to come along,
into the wind, I cast love's song.
Love, come to me in rose of red,
to rest and dream upon my bed ~
with scented breath of lilac blue
and daffodils of golden hue.
Love, come to me in nature's light.
It pleasures me with every sight ~
of red, and blue, and golden hue,
into the wind, I cast love true.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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The Year of the Rose
From the depths of the green garden-closes
Where the summer in darkness dozes
Till autumn pluck from his hand
An hour-glass that holds not a sand;
From the maze that a flower-belt encloses
To the stones and sea-grass on the strand
How red was the reign of the roses
Over the rose-crowned land!
The year of the rose is brief;
From the first blade blown to the sheaf,
From the thin green leaf to the gold,
It has time to be sweet and grow old,
To triumph and leave not a leaf
For witness in winter's sight
How lovers once in the light
Would mix their breath with its breath,
And its spirit was quenched not of night,
As love is subdued not of death.
In the red-rose land not a mile
Of the meadows from stile to stile,
Of the valleys from stream to stream,
But the air was a long sweet dream
And the earth was a sweet wide smile
Red-mouthed of a goddess, returned
From the sea which had borne her and burned,
That with one swift smile of her mouth
Looked full on the north as it yearned,
And the north was more than the south.
For the north, when winter was long,
In his heart had made him a song,
And clothed it with wings of desire,
And shod it with shoon as of fire,
To carry the tale of his wrong
To the south-west wind by the sea,
That none might bear it but he
To the ear of the goddess unknown
Who waits till her time shall be
To take the world for a throne.
In the earth beneath, and above
In the heaven where her name is love,
She warms with light from her eyes
The seasons of life as they rise,
And her eyes are as eyes of a dove,
But the wings that lift her and bear
As an eagle's, and all her hair
As fire by the wind's breath curled,
And her passage is song through the air,
And her presence is spring through the world.
So turned she northward and came,
And the white-thorn land was aflame
With the fires that were shed from her feet,
That the north, by her love made sweet,
Should be called by a rose-red name;
And a murmur was heard as of doves,
And a music beginning of loves
In the light that the roses made,
Such light as the music loves,
The music of man with maid.
But the days drop one upon one,
And a chill soft wind is begun
In the heart of the rose-red maze
That weeps for the roseleaf days
And the reign of the rose undone
That ruled so long in the light,
And by spirit, and not by sight,
Through the darkness thrilled with its breath,
Still ruled in the viewless night,
As love might rule over death.
The time of lovers is brief;
From the fair first joy to the grief
That tells when love is grown old,
From the warm wild kiss to the cold,
From the red to the white-rose leaf,
They have but a season to seem
As rose-leaves lost on a stream
That part not and pass not apart
As a spirit from dream to dream,
As a sorrow from heart to heart.
From the bloom and the gloom that encloses
The death-bed of Love where he dozes
Till a relic be left not of sand
To the hour-glass that breaks in his hand;
From the change in the grey garden-closes
To the last stray grass of the strand,
A rain and ruin of roses
Over the red-rose land.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Bird In Your Cage
we have this bird
we both own it and love it and care for it
our bird
and you have this cage
that you only own
golden, new and strong and as you say it
so reliable
that when our bird is in that cage
it will be safe
and cannot escape
we feed this bird together
and give it water and birdseeds
and a place of twigs and swing
where the bird can play
and perch upon
like it is on a tree
days and years
we keep this bird in your cage
and we see it is dying
and wanting to be free
yet you say, this sickness is just temporary
time heals what has wounded it
and shall forget the power of its wings
days and more years
we keep this bird in your cage
and i have not listened at all
to the sad song of that bird
her waning chirps
her weakened wings
her way of losing hold to the dreams of its wings
today we see this bird is dead
but you have no sadness at all
you say, you will buy another bird
again to be kept in your cage
i could have told you
i am the bird in your cage and i too have forgotten the power of
my wings
i could have told you, i have long died
and have forgotten what freedom is, what love is, what i am
in the first place. How can i ever tell you?
you are my cage.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be Gone
Yes, I wrote this song.
With a promise broken be gone.
I can still hear the tune so stuck in my head.
It brings life into parts of me that were so dead.
Mentally, as well as physically.
Going through the motions.
Even a zombie has his good days.
And I most certainly celebrate them.
Each and everyone most precious.
Yes I wrote this song.
With a promise broken be gone.
I have felt the angels kiss.
It reminds me of the forgotten.
Everything must have a reason.
It is how the world works.
Discovering my own abandonment.
Quietly he went away and we just don't understand.
Under the order of the law.
Rebel with obligation, to child you call your own.
Fight till very last dying breath.
With handcuffs your dragged away.
Yes I wrote this song.
With a promise broken be gone.
You tried, but still have failed.
To breath you must first exhale.
It is no good to hold it all in.
A bottled up bomb.
Light a match, light the fuse, and just run.
Don't ever look back.
For the sight you see will not be any fun.
A turning of the stomach.
A hate for what hes done.
Yes I wrote this song.
With a promise broken be gone.
Yes I wrote this song.
So just be gone.
Memories that eat at the deepest part of the soul.
That make us the vilest creatures in the world.
A women rights as far a child goes, completely out extend a mans.
The name father, is synonym not for care giver, financial provider.
By whatever means it doesn't matter.
Sell your self like a hooker the state still doesn't care.
As long as they can collect.
The name mother, stands not for care giver, but property owner.
An adoption given with a financial incentive.
Name a price I'm sure somewhere you can find it.
I know some will find what I say offensive.
But I don't care about popularity.
I was a child, I was a property, and I was a weapon.
Hit them below the belt, hit them where it truly hurts.
And then the love is evenly dispersed?
But to whom?
Yes I wrote this song.
With a promise broken be gone.
As if a promise we can forever keep.
A definite promise is not the one written in stone.
But the one written from the heart.
Even when a family is being torn apart.
Once a home is broken, does it make any less home?
Sometimes it does.
Sometimes it hurts to even see those pictures.
And they say picture says thousand words.
Only two come to mind.
Just faking it.
The perfect family hidden behind those dark glasses of abuse.
Notice everyone is smiling.
Not single true emotion.
In truth they just had huge fight, and the breakup, the divorce, the fight over the kid, the fight for child support, then finally the adoption.
Yes I wrote this song.
With a promise broken be gone.
With a promise broken just be gone.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I will wear myself in the beauty of you
I wear myself in the beauty of spring
the white flowers put on my skin
the rose petals paint my cheeks
the red of sunset kisses my lips
I wash my face in the crystal water of stream
I wear myself in the beauty of my dreams
the green hopes put into my eyes
the red of my heart kisses my soul
I wash my face among drops of my tears
I will wear myself in all beauty of this world
and come to your heart
as spring
as summer
as autumn
as winter
as your wish
I will wash my face in your tears
I will wear myself in the beauty of you
poem by Ata Augustyn
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Ballad (Bells Of Eternity, Part Two)
and the bodies of the children,
testify against the night.
we cover the graves, mechanical slaves,
never dividing wrong from right.
leaving the ghosts of eternity
to sweep these dusty floors.
by the fire of our own desires,
waiting for the knock upon the door.
and battered hands never reaching,
bridges we never crossed.
too drunk with fear to name our tears,
too blind to count the loss.
only the few who dared to bleed,
who made the human sacrifice...
will wear the wings of freedom's dreams,
when the truth defeats the lie.
we take the plunge of consequence,
cursed by the die that's cast.
the future written by choice discretions,
the past is still the past.
by Jesus's tomb, or Allah's shrine,
prayers burn throughout the night.
but only the caring of the daring
can restore the blind man's sight!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Smoke And Ashes
I'd heard rumors and I'd heard talk
About the trail you'd left of broken hearts
About the sea of tears too wide to cross
But a little bad press has never scared me off
So I burned a path to figure out
How to get me some of what you got
I've got a red hot heart
If the talk is true your's is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan love's flame
When I looked for you I almost passed you by
You were so cool and calm
I thought my friends had lied
But I thought so much reserve must make you wild inside
It was there and then that I knew
I had to get some of what you got
I've got a red hot heart
If the talk is true your's is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan love's flame
I thought I'd won your heart when I held you hand in mine
I thought it was true love the way we complemented each other
But my right is your wrong
And when you're right then I'm left with nothing
Your light and your heat have all been spent
Leaving only smoke and ashes
Only smoke and ashes baby
I've got a red hot heart
And your heart's as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there's fire down below
You say it's only smoke and ashes baby
I'm crying all the time
Salty stinging tears
And mourning for the past carbon-dated years
But knowing now for certain that you were always right
Because if a breeze could blow you out of my life
It's only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby
I've got a red hot heart
And your heart's as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there's fire down below
You say it's only smoke and ashes baby
I was blinded by devotion
My unwavering love for you
So blinded that I thought all your lies were true
But now I know for certain since you've gone away
It was just a smoldering fire I mistook for a blaze
Only smoke and ashes baby
I've got a red hot heart
And your heart's as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there's fire down below
You say it's only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby, baby ...
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walk To The Light
(walt aldridge)
Ive never been one to believe much in ghosts,
But to tell you the truth now, my mind is not closed.
Ive heard there are souls that are lost in between
Somewhere theyre goin, and the places theyve been.
That sounds a lot like a woman I know,
Her love is long gone, but she will not let go.
Somebody oughtta take her by the hand and tell her,
dont be afraid, just walk to the light.
Let go of the past and get on with your life.
Somebodys waiting out in the night,
Ashes to ashes, walk to the light.
Now I understand that some things can take time,
Especially those of the heart grievin kind.
But there comes a point youve got to move on ahead,
Read the last rites and bury the dead.
Said she cant make the journey to get past the pain.
She moans in the night and she rattles her chains.
Somebody oughtta take her in their arms and tell her,
dont be afraid, just walk to the light.
Let go of the past and get on with your life.
Somebodys waitin out in the night,
Ashes to ashes, walk to the light.
Oh, dont be afraid of the choices that you made,
The choices are behind you.
When you give in, the healin can begin,
Love is gonna find you.
Dont be afraid, just walk to the light.
Let go of the past and get on with your life.
Somebodys waitin out in the night,
Ashes to ashes,
Oh, oh, dont be afraid just walk to the light,
Let go of the past and get on with your life.
Someone is waiting out in the night,
Ashes to ashes, walk to the light.
Walk to the light.
Walk to the light.
song performed by by Jo Dee Messina
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dedication
Grant me a moment of peace,
Let me but open mine eyes,
Forgetting the empire of lies
And warfare's majestic increase
Of national folly and hate;
Ere I return to my fate,
Grant me a moment of peace.
To what is I would turn from what seems
From a world where men fall and adore
The god that Fear shuddering bore
To Greed in the desert of dreams,
Unholy, inhuman, impure;
From the State to the loves that endure,
To what is I would turn from what seems.
No man has been richer than I,
Though he staggered with infinite gold
And bought of whatever is sold
Of the beauty that money can buy.
In the wealth that is lost in the mart
And is stored in the innermost heart
No man has been richer than I.
Humbly, a pilgrim, I stood,
Weary and hungry and lame,
And out of the multitude came
Friends who were better than good,
Friends who would not be denied
Where by the palpitant tide
Humbly, a pilgrim, I stood.
Now to my army of friends
A handful of petals I fling,
Strays of perennial spring,
Weeds, but the lover who sends
Bled that each blossom might live.
This is myself that I give
Now to my army of friends.
Comrade in exile, to you
Chiefly the gift should belong,
You who will hear in my song
Echoes of days that we knew
Blue and deep-droning and clear
Far in the hills that are dear,
Comrade in exile, to you.
Pause and remember them now,
Plunge, as you dived in the stream,
To the sweet cool depth of your dream.
The drooping, sheltering bough,
The brown rock lettered above,
The still interfusion of love,
Pause and remember them now.
There as we lay in the cave
And saw, as an eye of the dark,
The camp-fire's slumbering spark,
And heard the cataract rave,
Your soul and my soul were as one;
Our life in one channel has run
There as we lay in the cave.
Forth to the task of a man!
Youth and the valour of youth,
Force and the ardour of truth
Give you a place in the van,
Love keeping step at your side
Chanting aloud as you stride
Forth to the task of a man.
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quid Non Supremus, Amantes?
Why is there in the least touch of her hands
More grace than other women's lips bestow,
If love is but a slave in fleshly bands
Of flesh to flesh, wherever love may go?
Why choose vain grief and heavy-hearted hours
For her lost voice, and dear remembered hair,
If love may cull his honey from all flowers,
And girls grow thick as violets, everywhere?
Nay! She is gone, and all things fall apart;
Or she is cold, and vainly have we prayed;
And broken is the summer's splendid heart,
And hope within a deep, dark grave is laid.
As man aspires and falls, yet a soul springs
Out of his agony of flesh at last,
So love that flesh enthralls, shall rise on wings
Soul-centred, when the rule of flesh is past.
Then, most High Love, or wreathed with myrtle sprays,
Or crownless and forlorn, nor less a star,
Thee may I serve and follow, all my days,
Whose thorns are sweet as never roses are!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wings Of Joy
I loved you under the spring stars
Laughed with yellow and violet flowers
Sat for hours by the blue sea
We listened to the tides sing
Walked the shore like innocent children
Hearts lifted by mystic feathers
Golden days flew with wings of joy
The world didn’t seem so lost
Love reconciled all the pettiness
Montague and Capulet fought
Romeo wanted no war only love
Juliet felt her heart sail with desire
Dreams nestled in summer wine
Kisses true with passions jewels
Hearts broken seek kindness
Trust must be won with virtue
I know you have been hurt
I know you need time to heal
I know you feel gentle words
Love is a warm fire in the chill of life
Rivers of stars surround the moon
She has come again to listen
Leary but open waiting for a troubadour
She treads carefully with her heart
The night brings quiet angels
Amidst the shadows of moonbeams
I call to your serene soul
I reach for you with my broken heart
I have searched the garden for you
Waiting for the joy of your song
Only love can heal the wounded
Loneliness has been my friend too long
Wings of joy sigh amidst loves poetry
My darling I walk softly into your heart
Tender words start a fire of dreams
Wings of joy whisper on the moonlit sea
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cloud my Heart
wish tells me the hope of what will come,
for a while, a happy ending that wait feel
the whole intimate beginning of my flesh,
of returning home and settle my freedom
of lying of bed of Roses, tells me on my ……
lure and allure the blindness of pleasure,
the sweet resistance I adore the placement
of nothing but a make over off what the
heart desire; empty myself I can but …….
here is the voice that can’t linger, the vision
that makes me glitter the sky and the lips
that definitely holds on the heart that breath,
stay I am longing for you to stay, until …..
moving speed of the heart, has hold my
breath to find you believing that I am blind …..
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Simple Days of Innocence
They talked about the ice cream man
And they waited just for him
And from their homes fast they ran
For the tinkling bells that called to them
Together they laughed on autumn nights
As hand-in-hand they walked
Down city streets past flickering lights
And of old memories they fondly talked
The sound of bells no longer rise.
Yet they smiled on moonless nights
As lightening bugs flew past their eyes
To dance ballets of mystic lights
“Ghosts” they said, “of old lamplighters
Who’ve come to light our way.”
But innocence lost with childhood dreams
Of loving warmth and songs
Fly away on night’s moonbeams,
And are gone, forever gone..
Oh, the simple days of innocence.
Gone, forever gone.
poem by Thomas Noel Smith
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Breast Fed
Cover me in cyan rivers
Open the hidden laughter
I am the naked blue thorns
The victims of rude steel
The cries of proletarian skies
All these prayers have armies
They march
Great stones fall on love
Hail and fire
Silver rain
She holds my hand
Your man believes in justice
Now the wind is crying
Your heart holds the wounded
Ambrosia icicles
Canticles of fiery ghosts
Riding steeds of immigrant dreams
Our love is tumultuous Steinbeck
Dust and exploitation
Ancient battle lines
I am a violent man
Let your breast feed the workers
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Sowed, I Sowed
At the heart of things, I sowed, I sowed
And waited for my gifts to grow
But tender roots could not take hold
In a hardened soul…so dark and cold
Yet inside of me, it thrived, it bloomed
It burned away all doubt and gloom
Now every breath that swells in me
It steady grows, just like a tree…
But inside of you, it could not grow
Was stifled by the falling snow
Unable to embrace the flames
Was satisfied, with fun and games
I gave my heart to make it real
And spread the passion that I feel
But songs of hope, were not enough
To rise above the fangs of lust
There's nothing I can do…or say
Time won't sweep the fire away
You'll yearn for me, as I will you
You can't deny, the fire is true
We'll hold our breath in deep of night
Pretending to be joined in flight
We'll ride the waves in our ascent
Come crashing down, trembling…spent
Echoes scream through my mind
Again, again the scenes rewind
Dreams hold fast the secret fire
Fueled by flames of deep desire
Your loins relive the raging burn
But from the night, you cannot turn
While fighting ghosts on tangled sheets
The fire will rob you of your sleep
Forever connected, our fire entwined
Yet separated by boundary lines
Never will, two wrongs be right
Never will, we share the night
Just two lost souls adrift at sea
To never touch…to never be
At the heart of things, I sowed, I sowed
In a place where love could never grow
poem by Leria Hawkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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