A Song

A Song

No more empty promises.

Here is my song to you.

Take it in its soul,

And breathe it with the midnight air.



No more emptiness.

We used to trade words between the one and other

As if the sky had never existed to glare down at our troubles.

Our mundane troubles, which envelop the world.

A song.

But long have your ears strained,

To hear the words I trade to you

In return for sweet memories of the years before, lost now upon the winds of
time.

 

For this I seem ungrateful

For your endless kindness and bared-teeth-pleasantries

Which lit up the sky.

I extend my heart, and wring it like a flannel over the riverbed.

 

My dear friend

Don’t hate or scorn myself

For I take this upon these shoulders on a daily basis.

And the pack wears heavy now.

 

A song to honour the whispered wind

For you my missed friend

To make up for the days passed

Straining for the sound.

 

You smile, and the world seems right again.