My memory lost
consciousness as
a loudspeaker
recorded its last
lament.
—–
These songs are not original,
these words are not personal.
They just reflect my private sunshine
caught in the prism of public perusal.
—–
Perhaps
I was wrong all along
walking on the wrong
side of the sunshine,
while
in the shadows
your unknowns
revolted against me.
—–
This time
I’ll wait
until your
time stops
ticking.
—–
Now
son
don’t
you
dare
spill
your
trough
of
memories
this
pitiless
time
will
shortly
fade.
—–
The promise of
what will be
is now the despair of
what could have been
——
We breathe, we learn
We cry, we wipe clean
plans that could have become
paintings of pure love