At dead of night I rise from sleep
and dress myself for cold;
the years are growing old,
and I have faded like a leaf:
that phantom, free of grief:
(my youth) I do remember,
shone with hope, but burnt too brief.
At dawn of day, in garret's gloom,
alone and fully dressed,
I lay me down to rest,
to dream of that forgotten spring,
whose birds have ceased to sing;
to season scarred with sorrow,
though it crucified, I cling!
At noontime drear when grey skies weep
and clouds float far away,
like on a dying day.
Myself, alone, I'll hide
till you’re back by my side;
I’ll wait here by the seashore
till the west wind turns the tide.
At twilight hour when sun has set
and darkness casts its spell,
as waves are raising hell,
I'll tread the level, lonely sand,
where once you held my hand,
before you left me lonely
in this paltry promised land.
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 2nd, 2022 07:06
- Comment from author about the poem: for Lorraine
- Category: Love
- Views: 33
Offline)
Comments3
I really appreciate the way your words fit together and flow so naturally. It’s like they always belonged together, and found solace in being with each other. Thanks for posting this.
Well written, Kevin.
So Many lines crossed so many loves lost.
Beautiful emotive write Kevin.
Andy
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.