A Ballad of My Dearest Love
While I tread the path the masses do fear,
To shift the tongue of my inner heart
Would be a dear sin, against myself.
Though martyred man has not been found,
Honesty still shines through,
So I speak with no regrets.
Take my hand we’ll go together,
In the dusk like birds of a feather
Gathering and walking down the nostalgic alley;
To the glossy foam of a crème brulee,
And the rich smell of a toffee nut latte.
Persists, the allergy that is me
For the answer I retrieve
Isn’t mine to receive,
“I just want to be friends,”
Though the feeling is never mutual.
As the people jib jab in an overtone,
Chattering of Post Malone.
The covering crystal of the morning
Lies awake and wandering
Where the sun will show its face.
Much to the surprise
Of the ones who early rise,
With the invisible element of warmth
The crystal became damp.
There will be a time for that new season,
But the time is nigh for neither rhyme nor reason;
Long winters nap never felt so real.
The bitter cold and folly there
Much like Rapunzel letting down her hair;
So long and driven, filled with beauty,
but misguided thoughts see negativity.
As the people jib jab in an overtone,
Chattering of Post Malone.
I’ve felt the distant stare of a wandering stranger,
Never feeling any danger:
Why must we judge the innocent faces.
The trouble is all too real
and the timing is slightly aloof.
I must try to resist the inviting temptation
Of judging those of non-relation,
“But why must the familiar pose a threat?” you ask.
Those close to home
Whom our streets roam,
Are nearest and dearest to our likeness.
The heartfelt place where they belong
Is never ever too far gone,
Yet, the air is filled with resentment
In a loving way (which love can see).
Please ask me, “why’ve you come to see so blue?”
Well I’ll tell you.
The love in my heart is great and forlorn,
For the people and place where I was born.
They are “there” and so am I.
We do not visit that dear palace,
Which brings darkness and true malice.
It is cast as far as the east is from the west,
For God has shown great mercy on my troubled heart.
The color I see is not true blue,
But the color of the rainbow, tried and true;
Glowing with promise, which can never be broken.
Hold tight, hold tight, to my soul’s strong tower,
Never ceasing, never leaving, in the thirteenth hour.
In a passed down rocking chair my seat does fit,
Will I try to fight it? Do I dare not sit?
Maybe…
I have pondered my eyes on the future ahead,
But the road is at end for breaking the bread.
Greetings of joy and acceptance, my heart’s longing for.
“I never, I never, have said that before,”
That’s what she said.
Changing, changing…
Father time is arranging.
The curtain calls for my name once more,
I doubt I’ll receive an encore.
This time is different though,
The people, still chattering from below,
Are clapping towards each other:
As if to gain acceptance from one another.
My time is there, but the next show will begin,
I am not in that troupe, but I won’t miss the Fin.
For my dream-eyes view the stage from a point much clearer,
The view from within, without obstruction or glare
We will see the world with that hidden solace, together.
We walk with hands tied as one,
Open our eyes, and the fun has begun.
The chandelier falls quickly with little restraints,
But we can’t move an inch
During the “Worship of the Saints”.
