Passing stranger hear a tale along the winding lanes,
I once touched things real and felt the seasons change.
Smelt the sweet perfumes of summer,
and witnessed winters pause.
Gathered my thoughts in autumn,
then gazed upon the new spring thaws.
Ohhh absent friend here this,
while you stroll along the forest paths.
I was alive once and loved.

That random, night time tap-dance on the window pane,
brings soothing womb like motion of the storm.

Which rocks and knocks a sleeper to near insanity,
or regress us back to times of richer borne.

Brings us home like shepherds of humanity,
but can lead us to a life of hope or scorn.

We must forget our hopes and dreams and selfish vanity,
to leave a heart less twisted but equal torn.

The high pitch whistles which rattle your bed are from absent spirits torn from the dead,  On this night, the right night and the right conditions, give way to a door for past apparitions.

They wait in good order not like us, they have no reason to fret or fus, they are well wishers, bad wishers and ghosts from your past, which have patiently waited for this moment at last.

For remember, evil deeds are done on stormy nights just like these,
when corruptive natures dance among the shadows of unwilling trees.

If you met the past, would you confront it? embrace it?
turn tail and run away? or stand and face it?
look each mistake and regret straight in the eye,
or shut it out and refuse to even try.
the past is what shapes us, makes us, lifts us and breaks us,
love it or hate it we cant avoid it, its life, the in-betweens and the path it takes us.

What do you do with old regrets,

There's a box full underneath my bed.

A little older now to forget,

But what do you do with old regrets.

Resting, Watching, falling at ease as the last summers twilight escapes from my sight into the darkness,
I fell asleep under the stars thinking of better and magical times within my own personal cosmic auditorium.

And in a silent calmness usually reserved for the dead, tired wondering spirits,
Which have managed to find their way home after an eternal tiresome journey, too weak to stand nor care.

I quietly whisper to myself “You could never find again or purchase moments like this”,
Then slip away into a peaceful trance as I silently slouch and crouch in awe and stare.

I think of harder times which now seem so long ago,
As my eyes grow heavy and finally draw a close.

Like the dying fire when desperate sparks ignite, bright and fight,
When its spent embers merely glow.

Oh what a lovely lucky summers night.

Suddenly I see you, moving into sight through wooded shades.
Silent, slow moving, shrouded in your dark cloak of mystery and sorrow,
Wise and cunning old bird, you exude that confident air of “Seen everything…Fear Nothing” attitude that has led others to their peril.
I stare into those cold dead eyes and wonder what untold secrets you carry that you neither wish to own nor share……
As if your soul is burdened with a heavy weight of this knowledge passed down from an ancient age and time for your keeping.
I whisper “Not today old friend”
And none the less it leaves your graceful flight unhindered as you look away and fly as if you’re moved away by tears.
Another Time.

When I’m gone,
Rip the sinews from my skin,
Grind my bones into dust,
Smelt the metals from my body,
But our eternal love... will never rust.