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Haydn Swan Sep 2014
Blinded by shadows,  didn't see the light,
Should have asked you to dance on a moonlit night,
never caught you a star in warm embrace,
or traced the contours of your face.
never ran my fingers through your hair,
or screamed and laughed like we just didn't care,
never stared into your eyes, as dark as coal,
or poured my secrets into your soul,
didn't understand till it was all too late,
how the sugar sweet candy took care of your fate.
for a very dear friend who sadly passed away after a drug overdose.
Haydn Swan Sep 2014
Of all the fates in life we fear,
might be the loss of one so dear,
but what of life that causes strife,
and pain in which there seems no gain.
What can soothe the sorrowed soul,
or spirit dark as gathered coal,
bereaved are we who cannot see,
that at last in death we are truly free.

© H V Swan
Haydn Swan Sep 2014
Morning tears are the ones that hurt the most,
they linger and distill the freshness of the new day,
eclipsing our view of the sun,
causing disparity of the soul.

© H V Swan
Haydn Swan Sep 2014
Ice cold, staring through a window,
the warmth of a summers day, ebbs and flows outside,
time slips through my fingers like grains of sand,
constructing plans and futures,
fiction that fades into shadows ,
dreams that mingle with the dust in my room,
In resignation, I let the old ghosts ride my soul.

© H V Swan
Haydn Swan Sep 2014
Is it pain we feel when we gaze upon a summer’s moon ?,
I hear her gentle whispers,
Feel her touch in the soothing summer breeze,
She surrounds me, consuming me,
Her tears lap up to my toes, on an empty beach,
Longing to embrace her soul within my own,
hands on a clock that remain still, never to move,
just as the moonlight fades with the rising sun, she disappears.

© H V Swan
Haydn Swan Sep 2014
We choose life,
always against the grain,
taken in, savored in the mouth, then spat out with haste,
ill gotten gains, worthy sins,
blessings felt as we puke over a porcelain basin,
we are but dried out clay clinging to the potters hand.

© H V Swan
Haydn Swan Sep 2014
We are buried under the sand.
for us, no sun-kissed June day,
no moistness of a morning dew,
no soothing waves between our toes,
no jubilant trumpet to herald our return,
no voice to cheer freedoms new dawn,
we are forever buried under the sand.

© H V Swan
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