And he knelt at the graveside clawing at the crimson dirt Was misery ever so wretched? Or silence so gnawing? The earth as thirsty and fruitless as his soul without her The tender roses dried up, their pinks a brittle unloved russet And he spoke, demanding his answers from them Words uttered, a singsong mantra,
And fear scratched my throat, a feral creature Nostalgia and panic a pallet of olive and scarlet Diverse in my being leaving me custard flimsy He and his favorite blue sweater, faded and frayed as the time Raven hair damp from the season and that scent, Washing powder, eager cologne and fondness My knuckles breaking
Stop the shooting stars For I cannot wish on them once more At the end of this forgotten street Where dreams and stars shall never meet Stop the shooting stars From fizzing from the dark sky Stop the shooting stars from gleaming in the eyes Of couples holding hands so tight and children gazing in
Down by the riverside, hides all the white lies By the muddy bank he stood with bloody hands and ruined suit Down by the riverside, hides all the white lies His reflection locked and murky is not the prince in her fairy story Down by the riverside, hides all the white lies For in
Will you wait for me when the Autumn moon is blurred in the olive river When the leaves have died and I’m not by your side to kick them up together Will you wait for me when the storm bears down and you tremble in the street In your thin blue sweater with no umbrella
They eyed her, wandering abandoned in the darkness She, a guiding light where the two paths merged Their white princess, leader of the sacred armies Naked feet tenderly absorbing the ferny floor And as a dappled deer she sensed her fragility The feathery touch of the breeze told her they had come It grazed her
Your hand slipped in mine and we consented, damp fingers loosed The sultry night burned my nostrils welding white cotton to dark skin That neon buzz lit the star strewn boulevard and I faced you And we knew, like the etched idols below our feet that it had passed. Our golden age to be trodden
A lingering melody begins once more, out of key though I know it well Skinny twisted trees caught in fractured mirrors and ephemeral fairground lights In the snowy park, phantom horses prancing into the white, leaping from shadows A faded mirage of mighty hooves, their glossy veneers chipped and shedding Rough flakes of precious gold
The ocean calling pulls me from my grimy city dream, a mirage of cerulean depth Stumbling blindly towards the shore, a magnetic pull of my sign Weary limbs alive in liquid sapphire, an aqua medusa born to join them Each strand of hair a rainbow on the glittering surface worshipping the sunrise The shimmers play,
