There is music that will play on,
when we are gone.
When we have slept,
And when we have weapt,
moving away
to a another day.
The music will still play
on for it's own
And for no one,
As when we are gone,
The stars won't be done,
They blink
They shine like a golden ink,
They will never leave,
They'll dance,
And we'll greave
And leave.
Just as we have always done,
And they will never do.
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 7:28 PM UTC
I settle down to bed,
I'll read or sleep or write
Or not
I'll write if they do, I'll work because they have,
I'll use there inspiration as a sign to find my own, to write my life or a story or my thoughts on them,
As, if they can write so can I,
They write a story I'll write a poem,
They wright a thousand words and I'll write one.
They write to us, to me
I will write to them, a compliment,
I will write to be seen or read as by only me,
For I am alone, weather I am seen or no,
I am alone
So I will sleep tonight as I have read and they have write,
We both sleep, alone and tonight.
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 11:59 AM UTC