Lydia Thomas

Lydia Thomas May 2017

He fell in love with her peculiarities,
The things that made her different,
But they had so few similarities,
That is caused their friends to whisper,

He wanted a simple life,
One where things would stay the same,
But she moved as freely as the tide,
Shifting as the winds began to change,

He promised they would never be apart,
They would start to build a home,
But she was born with restless heart,
And her feet were made to roam,

She begged for him to follow her,
To the corners of the earth,
But not all creatures are like birds,
Who are given wings at birth,

She tried to stay and wait,
Live the life she knew he wanted,
But she felt called to another fate,
So she lived in silence haunted,

For a while he was happy,
With his beloved by his side,
And yet he saw the longing,
Hidden deep within her eyes,

You can't keep your birds in cages,
And expect them to survive,
Their souls will ever fade,
Like a painful, slow goodbye,

The colors of her spirit,
Went from bright to gray,
She knew her love could feel it,
But there was nothing he could say,

In the end the love that saved him,
Was the cause of her demise,
The life of peaceful calm,
Trimmed her wings so she can't fly.
- [ ]

Lydia Thomas May 2017

The Weeping Willows

"I wonder as I wander" through the wispy willow trees,
And as I wander I can't help but wonder if they're wondering at me?
What if every maiden who lived a tragic life, when she died became a willow with her spirit trapped inside?
That's why they're always weeping, and whisper to the wind, about the loves they lost forever and will never see again.
If you ever see the willows that grow near lonely roads, know that their branches bend in sorrow for their hearts bear heavy loads.
Why do the weeping willows watch ME so carefully?
Can it be that they are thinking earth will make a willow out of me?

Lydia Thomas May 2017

Ghosts

You say you don't believe in ghosts,
And yet you've met so many,
For what you don't seem to know,
Is they're not folklore or silver fairies,

Ghosts are simply things,
We can't seem to let go,
Like moments in your past,
Where you revealed the colors of your soul,

Ghosts are only nightmares,
That haunt us in our sleep,
They are the hearts that we have broken,
They are secrets we want to keep,

A ghost could be a person,
Who has cut you deeply to the core,
They're often things we've seen,
That left us bloodied, raw, and sore,

Don't you see that ghosts aren't people,
Who have come up from the dead,
Ghosts are only memories,
Swirling blackness in your head,

So now you know the truth,
And we've only found one cure,
Find someone who you love,
Let them in through your souls door,

If your give your darkest shadows,
To a person you can trust,
Then you both can share your darkness,
And your ghosts will change to dust.

Lydia Thomas May 2017

No One Told Me

No one told me it was possible to fall in love in different languages,

No one told me you could fall for a place, a feeling, or a moment much the same as you could fall for a human,

No one told me that "home" doesn't have to mean where you were born and raised,

No one told me that you could feel more emotion than you thought possible for someone you don't know,

No one told me that hearts can speak to each other without ever using voices,

No one told me that loss and pain can come even from the brightest sunshine,

No one told me that I had the terrible ability to break others hearts, because they were too busy warning me not to let mine be broken,

No one told me that sometimes when the thing you've always dreamed of really happens you don't recognize it at all,

No one you me that what often looks like darkness is music and light wearing an unwanted disguise.

Lydia Thomas May 2017

The Power of Words

People like to talk,
To make themselves be heard,
Some people seem to talk,
Without uttering a word,

For a word is something powerful,
A weapon you can use,
But be careful how you say it,
And which words you choose,

Some people talk for hours,
And still get nothing done,
Others talk for minutes,
And their battles are soon won,

Be careful who you listen to,
Who you let inside your head,
A voice may sound like music,
But poisons you instead,

Often the most profound things,
Are hidden in the quiet,
And if you're always speaking,
There's no way you can find it,

The young have less experience,
But raise their voices high,
The old have done and seen things,
But are fiercely pushed aside,

So take care how you listen,
With good words stand your ground,
Then find yourself a mountain,
And spread the wisdom that you've found.

Lydia Thomas Feb 2017

The Maiden on the Hill

There was a maiden on a hill,
Dressed in white, standing still,

She stood in silence waiting there,
The autumn wind caught up her hair,

She never moved, all night long,
She never spoke, her voice was gone,

She stood there staring out to sea,
Feeling lost...for she was free.

Lydia Thomas Feb 2017

Scars

I have cuts and marks pressed into me,
that may be ugly scars,
But is the deep, dark nighttime sky,
upset that he has stars?

For though they stick quite deeply,
into his deep, dark skin,
he can't help feeling grateful,
that they outshine the dark within.

— The End —