• alisdaire_ocaoimph 9w

    Of my day

    Oh that the winds carry
    Upon their soft tingles
    That hold to my face
    Trace like her fingers
    Upon my cheek,
    These tears
    That I thought long gone
    Flood to the fore
    And crumbles again
    The heart that died
    When her scent faded
    But here all I hear is
    Her laughter, her voice that
    Filled so the joy of my days
    Her songs that gave life
    Where once a vaacum filled
    Her smile that glorified
    Taught me the ways of life
    The little whispers where the night
    Hung tight to her form.
    But here, I linger where trees dead
    Fade upon the boundaries of form
    And winter caresses my soul
    In a grip that like death
    Grasps my ember deep
    Freezing again my core
    Like in those days before her form
    Swept the loneliness far away
    And I stand starring into far off places
    Where hoping to see her again
    I roam these fields,
    to stand as so often
    To tell her of my day.

    Alisdaire O'Caoimph
    ©alisdaire_ocaoimph