PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

the strands of faded music used to
dance naked in formless innocence.

Our bodies glistening in the afterglow
of travelling from one state of being

to another. Our collection of hopes
placed casually upon the jumbled

collection of our ambitions. We spoke
of places to be and situations to be

surrendered. Too late we realized that
time was its own destroyer and like

all forms of temporary life it would
crash relentlessly into the shapeless

patterns of our journey together. I
suspect that there is little we could do

to change the atmosphere around us
and so I draw a picture for you and

place it tenderly in your hands. It is
only a black and white drawing with

the insides white and cold. You may
colour in the pieces if you wish to.

In doing so you might be able to
stop the flood of disease that cuddles

around our dance. And as the song
winds down and we no longer hear

the strain of its melancholy, perhaps we
can capture a piece of time to hold