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Literature Text
Soft, now, Constance
That I may answer you.
Waiting and wading
The malaise balm’s quite dry
While I’m singing a lullaby
And waiting yet
Light is vouchsafed,
Taken in with nocturne’s gratitude;
Considered as often as Land.
Both are yours
Are you?
I am twilight-eyed,
Still until across a shadow falls.
While waiting for a call
I won’t regret.
Close up your lacy, wasted sorrows;
Living in your yesterday
while searching for tomorrow.
Waiting for a morrow that never comes back.
The moments are so few
Wasted in hindsight
The mayonnaise jar’s gone dry
As the neighbour’s hope to pry
Inside your head.
I am twilight-eyed,
Still until across the shadows fall,
And making a silent call
I won’t forget.
Don’t trust your lacy, wasted sorrow,
While living in your yesterday
And searching for tomorrow
Hoping for tomorrows that never come back
Again.
That I may answer you.
Waiting and wading
The malaise balm’s quite dry
While I’m singing a lullaby
And waiting yet
Light is vouchsafed,
Taken in with nocturne’s gratitude;
Considered as often as Land.
Both are yours
Are you?
I am twilight-eyed,
Still until across a shadow falls.
While waiting for a call
I won’t regret.
Close up your lacy, wasted sorrows;
Living in your yesterday
while searching for tomorrow.
Waiting for a morrow that never comes back.
The moments are so few
Wasted in hindsight
The mayonnaise jar’s gone dry
As the neighbour’s hope to pry
Inside your head.
I am twilight-eyed,
Still until across the shadows fall,
And making a silent call
I won’t forget.
Don’t trust your lacy, wasted sorrow,
While living in your yesterday
And searching for tomorrow
Hoping for tomorrows that never come back
Again.
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My advice to myself...if I was only smart enough to listen.
© 2004 - 2024 DarkAutumnKing
Comments1
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This is wonderful. This makes me jealous