Have you seen my life around?
Now it’s lost,
I have found,
The whole world wanting.
Not pages torn from fairy tales,
Far stranger by many accords,
No songs to make a million sales,
Or plays stepped out on Broadway boards.
But it’s a dizzy, dancing, summer spark,
A falling, flying Meadowlark, and All those nights spent in the park Laughing in rain, and wet, and dark.
Also the sharpest knife that ever was,
A blade that has no par. It has to be that sharp because It constantly cuts, with ne’er a scar.
Those kind of days are hard to misplace,
Oft’ tattooed upon my face, There, in ink you can’t erase, Writ large the tale, my fall from grace.
What good are windows?
The view stays the same:
Grey, grey days only promising rain.
One more sign I’ve lost control of my brain.
Perhaps I should say ‘I never really had it’.
It’s not as though you can reach out and grab it.
Trying too hard to do whatever it takes:
Deliberately remaking all my remade mistakes,
Never get to choose just which part of me breaks.
It’s like Tori and her ‘Little Earthquakes’:
“Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces”.
The sky seems damaged,
Weeps unashamedly. Gifts me with icy tears. Like-comforting-like.
(Original art by Romano Molenaar ) https://www.comicartfans.com/gallerypiece.asp?piece=639993 Photomod by me. Used without permission.
As grey clouds gather round,
The drops begin to tumble,
They make a soothing sound
As the sky begins to rumble.
But it’s warm in here beside you,
And I’ll snuggle in your sweater,
We’ll do what birds and bees do,
As the world outside gets wetter.
You didn’t believe me,
When I said I’d meet you
At that spot.
But there I was
Standing in the rain.
You called me insane.
Then you smiled.
Such indescribable delight,
When sound and subtle petrichor
Anounce outside window and door,
Rainfall decorating dust.