Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Trying to Find My Way Back Home . . .

for so many miles I have walked,
lost beneath a silent moon. . .
the dust of the road,
rising up like long ago memories,
clings to the skin of my soul . .
and following me,
as a cape flapping in the wind,
are the streaming shreds 
of heartache . . .
I sing a tuneless song
to keep me company . . .
and remember 
when I held your hand
as we walked down
unfamiliar streets . . .
our way was paved
in sunshine and melodies
though the skies were black with clouds . . .
my eyes are hungry
for the sight of you . . .
my yesterdays . . . fill my dreams
and tears stain my rocky pillow,
where I lay my head
beneath that sullen moon;
my eyes seek the warmth of
that house upon the hill,
where memories 
have colored in the shadows,
and once
spanned the shining river below,
bridges to the heavens,
long faded
and returned to the gods as
mere dusty ephemera . . .
                                                                my keys
                                                                have rusted long ago,
                                                                a blood red stain
                                                                  on my fingertips . . .
                                                                   and our tender kisses,
                                                                   like the airy brush of a feather,
                                                                   have flown away
                                                                    with the sparrow for the winter,
                                                                   leaving but sweet tasting memories
                                                                        and a question on my lips

Quiet and tender are the melodies . .
they float around me,
sentimental and wistful,
like lost cherubs . . .
dreamy and content . . .
There is beauty in these shadows. . .
a cool and restful place to stay
and listen to the music . . .
for much of a long and weary day . . .
the electric guitar gives strength
and the piano gives peace . .
and there is a sweet balm in these songs
to sooth away the sorrows
and smooth away the rough edges . .
with a breath of the
lovely and divine . . .

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