Post by weewatto on Oct 19, 2011 13:27:25 GMT
If I look left down the street I can see the steps we sat on
as you told me of a boy with the world at his feet.
Cold steps that grew warm as the hours passed us by
and your story unfolded by your heart's heavy beat.
And the boy with the stars in his heart lived again as you talked
and my head found a home in your shoulder's strong curve.
Shadows borne of the buildings overtook the boy's footprints
as your tale wound its way through a life...
a life full of wonder, joyous and soaring,
songs of fields, sunsets, daytrips and friends sealed in blood.
Cheeks aching from smiles and ribs straining from laughter,
I watched as the moon's yellowed face tipped towards us.
Your story grew colder, your boy a touch wiser,
and our ankles grew numb with the night's creeping chill.
Your fresh citrus scent filled my head on your shoulder,
your arm curved around me, a shield from the hours.
The boy's gaze was shifted, edges chipped and jaded.
Will bent and was broken, retrained and contorted.
Dark bled into fissures, unbidden and unwanted,
to taint the boy's eyes and malign his sweet heart.
His path sank so swiftly through quagmire and concrete,
built by unseen, clawed handfuls of others' regrets -
their thwarted ambitions displaced and distorted,
they drew him beguilingly into the storm.
The shoulder my head sat on trembled so slightly
I hardly caught sight of your crumbling form,
as the man there before me once more became boyish
and pleaded me gently to help soothe his soul.
A handful of choices that led us both there
to the cold stony step under first sun, then moon,
ended quietly, gently, your breath ragged and halting
as your ultimate contagion, the world's disease
wrought tears from us both to drop silver on hands
joined softly in life then in kind, fleeting death.
And the moon's noble light gave your face simple grace,
as I kissed my beloved goodbye.
