Saturday, November 21, 2009

Shelter

I remember simpler times.
A place where the wind blew not,
a warm, dry place,
shelter from this freezing rain,
from bitter, harsh reality.
Moments of beauty,
waves sighed gently on the shore,
birds hung lazily on the warm breath
of contentment, peace...
Times when my heart sang loudly its love;
Every breath i drew was a moment
suspended, waiting
for a touch, a glance,
a kiss piercing bated breath...
I remember.
Now they are gone,
those stolen seconds of bliss.
All is grey, cold rain hisses
on the fire of my resolve,
threatening to consume me,
us.
Was there us?
I wonder was it a dream,
some thing, false memory I created
to give meaning to a room gone dark,
a heart bleeding itself on the floor of my soul.
I remember more simple times,
things; A place where the wind...
shelter.

Aug. 23, 1999

3 comments:

  1. Wow. This took my breath away. Your pain truly came through in your words. Beautiful.

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  2. "a heart bleeding itself on the floor of my soul" - Scott, man... to date this is my favorite of your poems. No contest. It's absolutely stunning.

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