When all the ships
Have gone to sea
And no one’s left
On shore but me,
Will you forget
My golden hair;
Forsake me for
The salty air?
When winds, they blow
And storms, they rage,
In thoughts of me
Will you engage?
And when the mist,
It coats your face,
Is it my breath
That you will taste?

We knew love together hand in hand.
Memories are still living.
With are walks apon the sand.

Seashells in a old wooden box.
The oceans spray.
A vanishing form down by the old
docks.

A bottle without a message
comes in with the tide.
Try as I must this pain
I cannot hide.

That old lighthouse stands as
strong as should I.
The tide changes yet never does die.

Up on top lonesome Lovers hill,
Wherein the ghost's of romance doth reside,
I shalt roameth the plain's of the dead
Between the murdered and suicide's....
God hath called me to be his light
Wherein the adversary's doth vacation,
But soon I shalt be free
In a grove of emancipation.....
I will passeth by the skeleton's of hate
None to be jealous there, just a heaven-like fate...
I shalt wander on into the gate
And mine thorns shalt be removed,
Living on spiritual water,
I shalt arise from mine tomb...
Whisking, I feeleth mine heart slowly coming to a close
A seraphim is awaiting me, dressed in satin clothes....
As tis mine ears pop, I get pulled up to above.....
A place wherein all is evident, a land fruitful filled with love.




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry