PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

So, could it be that it is me?

Haft become the fire in your eyes

enough love to be your hero,

melt a heart, stone cold at ten below zero?





Do you often wonder?

Did my songs in the key of A minor

transcend into the wind

that blows through your mind

upon cold lonely nights, such as this?



Decadence that belies upon my soul

will challenge my dreams of tomorrow.

For even when another looks into my eyes

I shall look away, as if needing to shelter

the last remaining shadow, of love hidden,

buried deep within me, idle it sits

upon the shelf of hope





And though the pages

become splattered with blood

as though the words may somehow

replenish the light of darkness' secret mourn

we know, this is never to be...don't we?





For although the pages written in red

will someday with time fade away,

As if the occurrence was simply a thought,

or a figment of one's imagination,

The innermost spirit of our shadows dancing

together in a time different from now,

Dear one, somehow we both know

forever etched upon the very existence of the soul

they will never, ever...pass





© 2002 Dennis Hicks





12/25/02 2:13 AM