If I should die before you do
Bury me in a suit of blue
Knowing well this as the truth
I would do the same for you

If we both go the same time
Crossing over that finish line
My hand in yours your hand in mine
Drawing deeply on the art of dying

Planting us in a field of green
A red sunset to highlight the scene
A yellow moon at night on which to dream
With a simple headstone for those to read

These two were poets in the best of times
Lived their lives inside the daily rhyme
And when the end did come both of them did find
The colorful pleasure in the art of dying

I knew a girl once
I liked her even,
but she wasnt so sure
Maybe she liked me
And believed I was pure

See I was a writer and she a poet
My pen stole her heart
Perhaps then she had known it

Each line I wrote, fufilled her fantasies
Illustrating things blind to common folk
Her sweetness grew on me
Even the innocence in her ink

But like I said she wasn't so sure
Was it my fault my feelings didn't conjure
My ego is bold and my writing takes over
Wearing my heart on my sleeve
I think thats what drove her
But then again

Intellectual love, rare to come by
We let it go, and feelings die

Still pondering on our first kiss
Life is fleeting and you will be missed.

We are returned to innocence
            from our birth to our death
                 we can find our way back
                     back home just before
                                               our night
                                                     star
                               F
                                 a
                                   l
                                     l
                                      s

                      ­        down.
Cherie Nolan © All Rights Reserved 2016