Goldenrod
Call back and sigh,
Once more for each eye
That splits apart the sun with brighter beams,
At least this is how it always seems
When trying to stare through the eclipse of you.
Call out with quips,
For your hips and lips
That send shivers first enigmatic orange
Then waves until the eye bends round again,
Then rolls the vision far away from where it belongs.
Call within your lair,
For each strand of hair
That catches in the thorny wind
And tussles in such a messy way,
But no one would daren’t say for you to change it.
What a list,
So easy made
By hands of small and finer nature,
Not the rough sandpaper
Kinds that most search for, signs of labor
Are lost on these pretty things
That work harder than it may seem,
But ah, in voice, my choice, my choice
Has made me frail and less becoming,
Still I stand and use my hands
To try and catch the stunning
Light that cuts quite right
Through the very sun til God wants to blink,
It’s this I think
That I’ll remember,
Though we shall not be together.
And what a list,
So easy made,
By mind of sharper nails than most,
Though I do not like to boast,
I think that I shall be far greener
In the caverns of my pants
Than all those who labor with their hands,
Yet still seems folly
To do as I do,
To try and woo
Someone like you.
But call me fool, for that is me,
Who spends his timeless eternity
Pounding black on white in patterns
That most can see but few do care
To see again.
And what a list,
So easy wrote,
And on and on and on I dote,
For this is my gift: to write, to talk,
To think and dream and sit and walk
But never run or race, it would be death
To try and increase the pace
Of my heart which beats for you alone,
Or perhaps it beats with blood and air,
I sometimes must believe the latter,
For if it beat just for you, I’d be dead
Of all these words, those were most true.
For what chance have I
Before I die,
To trangress to heaven early while I breathe
And be with you like I conceive?
Call back and sigh,
For you and I,
Caught in the dying light
Of a star that is not so bright
As the golden eyes of a friend.
Oh heart, my heart, it shall not mend.
oops..not off..i had to read this one too:) um..not sure i like it as a whole, though i do like the eclipse line and the last four lines;)
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Hey Brad! It’s been awhile! Sorry I’m not writting much on OD anymore but busy busy ya know! Hope you come to the play! The shows are Nov. eighth at seven, ninth at seven, and tenth at two. (pm) :o) I pray your doing well…have a great day! (a great week, and month for that matter!)
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