Sometimes at night

asleep by the firelight

I dream about them

how they died

some are singing

and others saying what

they no longer see

walking fencelines

limping as if in pain

some of them handsome

and some mysterious

silent but not

for long they tell you

men scarcely know

how beautiful fire is

and old stories

they can't remember

unless you can

still look them in the eye.

Release me from your spell
Sweet maiden of the night

Release me from my innocence
Surrendered to your delight

Release me from your body
A tapestry of ink and skin

Release me from yourself
Or I will surely sin

Release me from your words
Your velvet voice does speak

Release me from your hands
Your touch that makes me weak

Release me from your eyes
That are burning with desire

Release me from your soul
Or I will feed this fire

I tell myself that this is it,
when the day is done.
When I wake I'll start anew,
but tomorrow never comes.

Tomorrow becomes today
more quickly than the last,
more quickly than the bottles empty
more weeks and months go past.

I buy the drink, the drink buys me
another day to run.
The demons waiting patiently
for when the day is done.

Tomorrow becomes today;
I waste it like before,
I waste it getting wasted,
but I'm wasting so much more

My friends, my health, my family
and those I cherish most;
watch the boy they used to love,
becoming just a ghost.

Tomorrow becomes today,
I may have missed it all,
I may have missed the last chance
just to never miss last call

I tell myself that this is it
when the day is done,
but the circle remains unbroken
and tomorrow never comes.

You and I walked down the road
as lonely hearted friends
to find the way that leads to love
on the path where friendship ends.

We've always been desperate to share
the feelings never spoken out loud,
but our perfect sky is always filled
with the reluctance of broken clouds.

If the time had come for us to decide
which path would you choose?
Would you still just be feeling lost
or just too afraid to lose?

As I walk the streets of this old town
footsteps of the past are retraced;
though I look upon it with brand new eyes
every place still has your face.

The wind will always carry your voice,
words echoing on the breeze,
like whispers in the gathering dark
between the cemetery trees.

Fragmented memories of a tortured past
are just riddles without clues.
Haunted are these same old streets
by the apparitions of you.

Bravery is not a trait to be learned,
but a decision that's yet to be made.
When standing against overwhelming odds
there's good reason to be afraid,

but despair does not ensure cowardice
and adversity does not equal defeat.
Every man still has a fighting chance
as long as his heart still beats.

Be always valiant and forever fearless
against what others may forewarn,
because the decisions made amidst catastrophe
are also when heroes are born.

We’d been together so long, it seemed
That nothing could tear us apart,
We lived our lives in a world of dreams
And Barbara lived in my heart,
But frost had covered the window pane
And then it began to snow,
As Barbara turned, with a look of pain
And said, ‘It’s best that you go.’

I didn’t know what she meant at first
As I looked up from my book,
“Go where?’ I questioned, but thought again
As she quelled my heart with a look.
‘I said I want you to leave,’ she cried,
And her face was set in stone,
‘We’ve come to the end of the path,’ she sighed,
‘I want to be left alone.’

Then suddenly all confusion reined
I didn’t know what to say,
Whatever had brought this mood on her,
I wished it would go away.
But she was firm, and she packed my things
And ushered me out the door,
I stood there shivering in the cold
To be back on my own once more.

I found a flat and I camped the night
There was barely a stick or chair,
I’d have to buy all the furniture
To make it a home in there.
But I sat and cried in the empty room
As the question came back, ‘Why?’
I’d loved her so and my heart was torn,
I thought I wanted to die.

I went to her with my questions, but
She slammed the door in my face,
Whatever love she had had for me
Had vanished, without a trace.
It hurt so much that she cut me off
With never so much as a sigh,
I called that all that I wanted was
To tell me the reason, why?

The roses had bloomed so late that year
Were still in the garden bed,
We’d always tended the bush with joy,
We both loved the colour red,
So I snipped one off as I left one day,
And planted it under her door,
To let her know that I loved her still
I didn’t know how to say more.

Her brother called in a week or so,
Said she was in hospital,
She’d gone in just for a minor cure
And thought that he’d better tell.
So I caught the bus and I went on down
With a quaking fear in my heart,
She hadn’t said there was something wrong
Before she tore us apart.

The doctor came in his long white coat,
His brow and his face was grim,
I said, ‘Don’t tell me the news is bad,’
He said, ‘I’m out on a limb.
Your wife just passed from the surgery,
But she pulled, from under her clothes,
And asked if I’d pass this on to you,’
In his hand was a red, red rose.

David Lewis Paget