The Cuckoo

Sian sculpted landscaped caravans,

Derived from problems from which she ran,

She’d hold herself away from pain,

But rewrite her past in tragic ways,

I’m sure one like her I’ve seen before,

Sadness dripped from her eyes towards the floor,

The woman, in distress looked into my eyes,

Clifftop climb, she spoke and cried:

“Please, I just want to be with my baby,

I’m sorry, do you forgive me?

You were crying, and then you were not,

I held you to me too close,”

Her clothes were torn, a knife in hand

A look of cold disdain, a smile so taint,

She painted landscapes of a time,

When living meant she had no tears to cry

They said her art was not meant to be seen,

Terrifying to the eyes of disbelief

They would say she’d just paint to masquerade the pain

Her past a death she can’t escape

But Sian simply said: “Like a bird I will fly away”

She’s the cuckoo who flies to escape her pain,

She’ll love you ‘til the day she dies,

She’s pretty in looks, but holds us captive in lies

She sucks away smiles, to ensure she is heard

Sian is the cuckoo…

Who will feed off your smile, she’ll hold you as the cuckoo…

Rips the skin from your eyes

She’ll hold you, as in her arms you cry,

Faking a warm smile,

And brush the strands of hair from your eyes,

She’d kiss you, and you would melt in her hold,

She’d love you

With love so harmless but cold

Sian’s the cuckoo,

Who broke down with a plea:

“Please forgive me, I just want to be with my baby,

I’m so sorry, do you forgive me?

You were crying, and then you were not,

You were crying, I held you too close”

Sian, she will love you,

But as the cuckoo away she should fly

Sian, she will love you