A Song for Bones

As i watched
The light fail,
On your cold stone,
I could hear nothing
But your song
In my bones.
I knew it would echo
Forever and more,
As you danced
On light feet,
Further in to
The brightest
Of nights.


Shadow Puppet

It was worth it.
In the end.
My friend.
For all the
The pain we
Those memories
And those we can’t.
I can still see,
Only me.
That it was worth it.
At the end
My shadow. 
My friend. 

The Picture Of…

The brush is old.
The paint once so
Carefully chosen
Is dry, flaking grey,
On to the table
Where it has rested
For quite some time. 
Next to the sagging
Abandoned canvas,
With the beginnings
Of the picture started
By the brush and
Unknown hand.
No one Will ever see
What they had done.
Or know why they
Could not finish.
Such a shame.
It could have
Changed so much.

What I Know Now

Those steps.
So secret
Mossy and inviting.
If only.

The first few lead
Down in to the
Soft wet earth.
Magical and exciting.
If only.

The light was fading
Above but the steps
Carried on leading me.
Down to somewhere i was
Sure i had to go
If only.

Now still i am walking.
Down and down.
Part believing
What i will see will
Be beyond reckoning.
If only.

I fear i am lost.
Forever to be
On this aimless wander.
Decending, turning.
Nowhere walking.
If only i had known.

Tides Turn

You were my work.
My masterpiece. 
All the time
My mind whirred,
Poured in to you.
Perfection was my aim.
I thought i was so
Then at some point
That all changed.
I lost control.
The vision blurred,
Ideas mixed, merged
Came out all wrong.
They weren’t me.
They belonged to you.
The creator became
The artist
The work.