|
![]() |
Cotton, pillow and heart Imagine for a moment that, regardless of age, You are brimful of love and there is nowhere to Expend it. You are overflowing with passion like A bursting purse chock-a-block with revenue yet The clasp is tightly sealed against entry and cannot Be prised open not even by the mighty purchase Of Heaven's fulcrum.
Unspendable love, unspendable money. Imagine Again the silence that comes with such a sorry State of affairs. What yesterday was dependable And forever is today nothing of the sort. Loss of One kind or another leading inexorably to five Star loneliness and all that spiritual bankruptcy Implies. Such an hour, such a day, such a night Steeped in the haunting memories of a love that Once was and will forever linger in the tender Threads of cotton, pillow and heart.
When a heart becomes vacant squatter ghosts Quickly assemble gleefully adding weight to a Pain that is already unbearable. Memories come Flooding in as thoughts drift ever backwards in Search of better times, in a better place, with a Better love. A love now so unattainable as to be Nought but an illusion in the cortex of a sensible Mind. But this mind is not sensible or at least not Willing to be so. For there is peace and safety in The cocoon of 'what might have been' where Phantoms of the mind weave and embellish, buff Up and massage images from the past in a Valiant effort to bring a modicum of relief to an Injured heart.
As the empty hours tick by the blood of a broken Heart falls as tears. Tears to cool the pillow, tears To tell the angels something is amiss. Tears often Hidden from view but visible still to eyes that can See. Was it a cheat, a jilt or just a change of heart? Whatever it was it stung like mad, hurt like billy-o And left the injured heart in disarray.
But as we all know time heals and in time this Heart grew in strength and stature and one Night moonlight peeped through a pretty window To fall upon crisp cotton sheets, a pillow on Which lay a single rose and a heart making up
For lost time.
© Joseph G Dawson Vote for this poem
|
|
| |