Cold rain falls in the river, flows down to the sea, gets into the skyline, circles endlessly. Same old rain on the wind, same old pain in my soul.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Love's Soft Passing

























Love doesn't always stay close by. Sometimes it can't. Sometimes it just brushes along leaving a little of itself behind. But it doesn't have to be a bitter passing. It can be held for what it was. A moment in time, whether a day or a lifetime. Just as it is. Simply love. It can come in all shapes and sizes and the best kind is the one that doesn't demand anything in return.






When the feather of your touch no longer lights my way
when your glow fades into amber leaving
and the snow of our early season turns grey
know that I won't barb wire the past
and claymore the trail
blowing up beauty in slow passing



so many so capable of hiding so much
so many so capable are so not me
my pimples, my sweat and my tears
my disappointments, my doubts and my fears
I wear them for you to sooth, to assuage and to know
and God help me you do, when no other would dare



I can't shout from the mountain
Hey! look at me!
ain't I grand? ain't I pretty ain't I somethin to see?

cuz I'm not, and I know it and you know it too
but you, one of a million, you bound up my wounds
and straightened my hair through made up truths
you zippered my pants and buttoned my shirt
and instead of away, you turned to my hurts



I'm not a red sports car on highways of flame
I'm not the star player who wins the big game
I'm me! just me! and a pity it is
in a world of tagged beauty
and grab all you can
I'm just overlooked
like pebbles in sand



but you took my hand and said come with me
and you cared not who saw or what they would see
and you patched and you plaited and wiped it away
all the ugly and nothing that didn't have to be
a target for those who direct cruel plays
who love all they are and all of their ways



So when your love fades like the sun in the blue
and your waves reach a shore on a distant stars hue
I'll not be bitter and pull at the scabs
and lament the sweet times, the little we had
for time a poor measure of treasures in pure
and I know the truth and I know the you
you were the all you were the cure



but you never were mine to pocket and locket
just an angel of mercy and love without limit
who found an old penny
left on tracks to be trodden
and the shine that you left
will not be forgotten


~Rick