Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                    I Gave my Friend a Poem for Her Birthday

I gave my friend a poem for her birthday
“It’s not as much fun as an electric train,” she said,
“But it’s pretty good.”

This consistent need to change
This burning desire to be better
Am I slowly changing for good
Or is it good that I am changing ?
I think a lot, speak a little
I dream a lot, act a little
This constant void that I feel in my Life
Why, why, why, I think to myself yet again
Caught in this trap of monotonous mind battles

I spent an awful lot of time by myself.
As i wait
Its a lot of time to sit inside this head.
As I wait
For you to hear the screams I'm screaming.
As I wait

The sweetest of moments,
are still yet to come.

From the depths of despair,
to a bittersweet slum.

In the darkest of nights;
a moth to a flame,
a ship to a light,
I'm calling your name.

In dreams and in memories,
and in memories of dreams.
Sand slipping through fingers,
water flowing down stream.

I'll miss you forever,
I've made peace with that.
Hair of the dog,
tail of the cat.

All is forgiven when mourning the living.

The painting is blurred
Shades of color
Speak to me
Call to me
“Look at me”

My eyes are open
Yet I can’t see
The shades of color
Directing me
Warning me
Protecting me

My eyes are open,
The painting is blurred