Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.
You couldn't just drop in. You had to phone.
He'd put you off an hour to give him time
to clear away her things and look alone
as though his still raw love were such a crime.
I want to tell you about time, how strangely
it behaves when you haven't got much of it left:
after 60 say, or 70, when you'd think it would
find itself squeezed so hard that like melting
ice it would surely begin to shrink, each day
looking smaller and smaller - well, it's not so.
The rules change, a single hour can grow huge
and quiet, full of reflections like an old river,
When the white flame in us is gone,
And we that lost the world's delight
Stiffen in darkness, left alone
To crumble in our separate night;
When your swift hair is quiet in death,
And through the lips corruption thrust
Has stilled the labour of my breath --
When we are dust, when we are dust! --
Some say risk nothing, try only for the sure thing,
Others say nothing gambled nothing gained,
Go all out for your dream.
Life can be lived either way, but for me,
I'd rather try and fail, than never try at all, you see.
Some say "Don't ever fall in love,
Play the game of life wide open,
Burn your candle at both ends."
But I say "No! It's better to have loved and lost,
If I had but two little wings
And were a little feathery bird,
To you I'd fly, my dear!
But thoughts like these are idle things,
And I stay here.
But in my sleep to you I fly:
I'm always with you in my sleep!
The world is all one's own.
But then one wakes, and where am I?
In whispered winds, wandering wistful ways,
A sorrowed soul, trapped in a boundless haze;
My heart, a vessel filled with shadows grown—
Where all I loved—I loved alone—
Melancholy moon, with its mournful glow,
Casts silver beams upon the world below.
Through midnight's mist, I yearn for love's sweet tone—
And all I loved—I loved alone—
It's all about time,
When you were mine.
And my verve took curves.
Yes I know
Life is a journey,
where all good and bad people
come in a way,
Love is but a game of two,
I've noted with curiosity.
But who will pair me, who?
Who will choose someone like me?
It is a game, so they say,
It is a way it seems for all.
It is a game for two to play,
And if played well it will pay.
As the sun shines through the leaves...
Peering through in the shape of a heart...
Our park benches sit so empty...
As insecure love drifts apart...
Your hand no longer clutching mine...
On the walks which we no longer go...
The emptiness runs oh so deep...
Like a well with no bottom below...
Perspective is a hell of a thing.
Meeting her was like looking into the eyes of a phoenix.
Soaring through a forest blanketed in darkness
Fire illuminating the night sky,
Radiating a gradient of yellows and reds,
While burning down the ferns and pines that block her path.
Too beautiful not to stare
But also, too dangerous to linger.