The stars are falling
And yet you fail to see,
Playing naughts and crosses
In the sand and shale
By the sea.

Deaf to the thunder,
Stick in hand
You made your move.
Circle in the centre,
reflecting the moon.

Your enemy?
As oblivious as you,
When the dunes had parted
And the rift was in full view.
I knew then
There was nothing we could do.
Each locked in the embrace of
The stalemate that shall ensue.

The maelstrom whipped in and above,
All around our ears
As the salty sea spray was mixed
Among our tears,
Sodden upon forlorn beach below.
Sticks and stones
Forgotten
To the Undertow.

I am in fact a dinosaur
****** into the late 50s

Child of the 60s
Emancipated: late 70s

Came of age through the 80s
Became a man in the 90s

Time travelled in 2000 but
The naughts were frought

Better when in the 2010s
Seeing liberation by the 20s

Extant not yet extinct
This dinosaur still roars.

Two beautiful moons,
galaxies apart
Turning circles
held there
by the obligations of gravity.
But one ever seeks the other,
Sensing they are destined;
They feel the pull of the other
Through the void of spaces.
In their endless revolutions each
Counting the twinkle of the stars,
down to the one Lunar turn
when they align paths
only seconds to Tell
of a universe of love
in that moonbeam,
eclipsing Each others spaces,
their refractions touch.
Particles of moonbeams close enough
to mingle in each others high hopes,
but the universe has
its own time scape
At least as they drift,
further from the rings of their bounds
Each endless cycle,
drifts them a fraction closer to their hearts;
and on that glorious night
when their hearts collide
the universe will see
a brilliance of love
To eclipse every sun.

He drew designs of passion on my naked flesh with his fingertips

the rythym slow and winding delicately, pensively around the tightly wound delicate-est parts of me.

It was as if he were tracing every line, every beauty every imperfection that was my essence in physicality, and on occasion he looked deep into my eyes for further permissions to which I could not answer held hostage by his touch and my indelicate wanting.



The bottom of my lip curled up in a tooth nip constrained the torrernt of love words that threatened to pour from my mouth, breath doing its best to find regulation and all I wanted was to be lost in His adoring admiration floating anywhere in his abyss contented just to stare at his unorthodox beauty, fashioned by his strength and decisiveness and above all the way his soul knew mine.



It was a separation unbearable made more so, by the powerful burning longing ignited by his feathery touch. caught somewhere between sweet Nirvana and torturous Hades;  not sure which toe was dipped in which?  These were fleeting thoughts that brought me through my confusion and closer to the clarity of madness. Eyes now intent on discovering him, devouing him with each twist and turn of his strong limbs. my fingertips begining to free themselves from thier trance, reach hesitantly when finally touched its destination a gasping pleasure realsed its self from his throat as i slowly realise my touch equally burning my own design trails of longing fire. He threatened to lose control of, breathing love and fire passion as the lines of desire's designs brought fourth an achictectural beauty that ochestrated prisimic baptismal fire that no other could have pervaded;  and the words written in the burning flesh had no name just symbols, traced over and over again still not enough to capture meaning. It was all we had but it was enough to sign our love endless to the ages of ages.



some say there is a word that comes so close though many more words are missing, forgotten but still felt penultimate erotismiagapea the unity of all things designed to be craved by love.

I cruised the city streets today
every look, every gesture interrogated
for signs of you.
every corner wrote a perscription
for a new hope,
only to dissipate in realisation
by the absence of you.
A lead, a clue,
your old jacket,
a pair of shoes,
none lead to your
missing face
I cruised the cityscape
double checked the shadows
to find nothing of you.
No sign.
And I wanted so badly,
to come back to life.

The hollow space where you stepped from my atmosphere felt so empty;

void of all feeling and substance. It seems you even took the air with you.

---

As you left I felt my contentment tearing away.

i held my hands awkwardly half shut, half open;

it was all I could do to stop myself physically clawing for it

---

a coldness swooped in and claimed your previously occupied space as its own, hanging itself around me... A strange essence, with the ability to call out my confidence and destroy its underlying ego. It taunted me with the relative ill-ease consuming my thoughts. As I watched each drawn out pace spreading you further away, your physicality dissolving in to the clatter and garbled amusements of the facetious element hoarded into the smoke hazed ornate ballroom.

---

It was clear you had no intentions of pandering to my insecurities, or remotely interested in any other of my womanly charms

A beast of bested burden; how easily he laid upon my heart like a warm blanket

His cruelties stung me with passion, his empty words grew me to love him in spite of him. How easily he tangled my well formed opinions and pulled my perceptions from under me!  I felt I was dancing on an ever shifting carpet afraid for dear life about to topple over the edge and ever rescued from the finite moment...

---

Appalled by my countenances, compelled by my indignation, repelled by my eagerness,  yet, still there ghostly and taunting.

But I had seen it.

A gold moment of freedom, of warmth in his eyes and I pained to see it again. It was this dust particle lit by the sun emanating a warmth to fill the rooms empty space with such a gorgeous sweet freedom, of dancing upon lightness and air!

Eye to eye, soul to soul. In that fraction of a moment it had happened and he was driven to erase it with all and any counter actions. Knowingly I begin to feel a slight crescent nudging the corner of my mouth as I realise suddenly  picking up my ego and dusting the cold off my shaken confidence... Impossible. I left, knowing the manipulations that would follow with the kind of surety of knowing one with a complete intimacy aged of many years an yet it had only Been 3 days, 3 complete life times. One fraction of eternity. I walked never looking back knowing it was I leaving the void behind me.

---

I did not care for wanton games this evening. I am not a plaything contented to puzzle over strings dangling of bobs, bits and things. As the cab rolled up and I was safely tucked inside, I thought of the ensuing orchestration of our physicality. I felt with such fervour we would meet again soon. That was three lifetimes ago. And I still won't let myself falter.

---

I write to pass this endless time.

I tried and tried
to write a poem today
but
all my efforts
came to naughts,
so all I have to show for that
is simply
this

.

Lyrics written on Church walls
Bashful lurking Lucifer,
Carved glazes of canker crawling on the mead
Drinking vile torments of men
Lucifer hath angel been
Spread wings of human fate
guided men on burlesque dives
through historic and futile rage
Drawing on lost and regained have never been thy aim
For jeopardy in art's name is nothing but a lost game
God and man and Vinci guise
And letters of un-earthly paradise
And decades of poetry sinned
To unmask man through lyrical films
Morte, life, determining naught
Empty pages of science and draught
Realms of here and realms of there
Realms that thy heart found rare
Antonym of fright being scare
Is not what man learnt through time
And there as courage behooves and
Life draws you to her
Death seems close in the arms of beloved
Pain, man's secret armour
bellows courage with a fake accent
Coming of seasons and dawn and light,
Poetic romance fretful sight
World naught ready to love and cherish
Human cans't broil feel
April as thy knows
A heavenly soul of a year,
Brewing rose, carnations and dew drops in time
A certain cotillion towards the other,
A light breathing when eyes met
Beyond the language of the celestial walls
Eve and Adam through bright colour meadows
I see as thy eyelids quiver from haunts of past
And as night descends the maiden shy
With light prance of the lion he prances
Flesh by flesh swoon by temptation
Drops of naive lies
promises of eternity
Battles of Brunanburh
Horses line up to a steady flame
Fishes swim in fleshy rain
Draining mouth of Paris gates
Writing pages of descent
And on with thy fire of the month,
November rose in the wild grass of beams
Battle lost and won it seemed
On another hill a maiden swept her hair
Through rosy gleams and eye of glass
And smiled like the forbidden apple of fate
Jumped like the lion
left in dismay
songs of despair
An orchestra of pain
Nightingale of death bellows of wind
On sunday the fifth he had sinned
she had cried and shown the rose
cigarette and smokes
of nothing proposed
Flesh be thy crime
heart be thy muse
Naughts had been reflected
in thy abuse
Stricken the horror bladder
Rose with dismay
And to **** the canker
in whom the ***** played
Alone within thy celestial walls of God, Goddesses and fate
Questioning thy holy spirit
the mistakes thy made
Entrusted with athenian history
Women bearing dagger
Human sentiments are evil
Lucifer is the rightful dowager
It's him who sheltered blue
Evil is romance
hardly to swoon
The right and wrong and sadness grief
If they see world of poverty
And happiness a myth
And now trumpets of war
And experiences blithe
To see the world anew
whom is right?
If Lucifer the fallen angel saw
what was yet to see
God is a liar and heaven's a greed
Thy stealth steal within bosoms canker
hate, ****, juvenile crime,
Crime is the way
to drive horrors in time
Human history baffles thee!
Social etiquettes and manners of glee
Whom to fool and whom to wrought
The lamb, the tiger a hated must
Angels, demons painted square
whom to whom the battles were?
The right of man to sin and begone
are fated dramas of life and forlorn?
Brew the evil and feed thy good
Awake! Arise! never be fooled!
And sadness a step,
sudden and dark
Thy unending stairs to heaven abased
Lonely as autumn arises and leaves gather
Memories of child and man
Memories of fated hand
Thy walks through
Matured, mind of steel
Anguish concealed
A heavy sigh of a grown mind
Scorns the happy girl
And laughs over her dead pearls
Mind of a grown self
Visits Celestial walls,
The temple, the bed the wrongs
The right is a foolish girl
Inside her body the birth of a new world
the falls the laughs the pain the demands!
The gunshot of life
The circle of hope
And nursing and growing the cherub of flesh
Is they mother nature with a man of crest
The moon as it shines, shows horrors no more
But in thy heart, a maiden sad
To loose all she ever had
But to gain life
and knead love
To love love and to grow above
Lucifer reads bedtime stories
God saves the crown of glory
Life smiled and played along
Death for death
and finding songs
Growing up in lilac storms
She learned to battle and grow a home
Keen on her *** to bottle dreams
Milk and bread is new it seems
Tyranny with a ****** sword
Knives it's prey as it creeps from it's door
But in white she clad and drew the sword at hand
Tears as bows it drew
Battle of ages seen never so shrewd
The good plot for her
The evil shined
Who art evil or good
She painted blind
She called her demons risked her God
She became human is sad of all
Thy maiden story once again read
The man who left
Evil has no name
So good naught trust
for good is thee
Good is evil
That had been set free
Whom to whom
And what to name
Should haunt the grave
or visit a pray
For to pray is a prey
And grave is a paradise
Questions she darted
With wide eyes
I showed thee card where black and white
Rose to fame side by side
God is lucifer
heaven is hell
Man made tricks on walls
For stories to tell
Man is mortal
desires are innate
Soul is thy spirit that lies awake
Death of life is a soul that plots
Stays on Earth in shallowed knots
To be beyond and to see the light
Have naught done that
Life is a sight
Not seen to man, if realised is beyond
To trust in fame is all that is done
Meekly shown courageous sprout
To do good or evil is a judgement about
The religious amenities made by man
To shun Lucifer is yet in thy hand
To pray him is a choice thus
But to prey pray has been man's lust
Again memories squint of thy maid on the meadows
Flesh on flesh haunts thy skin
Shallow breadths and mortal eyes
Rise beyond skies they speak
What sky what ground
What lava and heavenly abode
To grow old in folktales
Aside dusky shores
Man knows all
Man knows good
Good of man
Is a questionable truth
Man knows evil
Man knows crime
Man knows nothing
He is lost in time
Man knows man
is what tale they should
Write on walls instead of evil and good
Evil might harm
And good might ease
But man does both
And later he grieves
For grief hath no church nor temple nor mosque
Grief is inside man's chest
Pumping through his *******
Of Eve's fool and Adam's greed!
Of the canker of the holy grail
Of the lies he feed!
Who art to decipher life beyond life
When life is tormenting
even in it's sight
Who death, desert or leaves the soil
Who plants and grows in thy turmoil
Who loves and cares and makes thy life
Who saves who draws and pushes knives
Who grows and finds peace in thy self
Who plots and fails and satisfies and helps
Who prays and begs and trust in him
Who prays and begs and trusts in sins
What the sins, what the truth
Human beings are born aloof
To end to grow to die or to be born
Man hath no power to tell of or scorn
Man is a flick
Man is a pride
Man draws wars
Man lies
Man brings flesh
Man grows thee
Man dies tomorrow
Man is me.

... he points his toes
like a swan stretching its neck :
smooth shaved calves in fish-nets
to slip into stiletto heels,
        performance art of a deceptive nymph

... grace on fine-point tips : his gift - gentille lace
Stage lighting and mace
impersonation or personification of feminine beauty
leporine lithely limned
delicate dancer
       it is almost as if floating across water
       he mimicked once more before
some inner mother's nature took over

façade of savored tastes - savoir faire
voila! a star in it's place ...

... It is her face when the night creates a cape
borne with Van Gogh plumes sufficed with self
she paints upon his face : starry nights
sun-flowers, irises covering the welts...
comparably museum worthy, imitation flames
yet like any other canvas
          beneath it could lie disappointment and mistake
          drafts of inspiration, cover-ups of cynicism
          another creature - some creation unlike him
what was before / behind soft curtains / kept behind his in-betweens unseen (*****) stage hands spot light polishing knobs “my name is Job…”
but what if ...
... the truth and what presently others see
Diva or DILF
     to believe or not convincingly
could be / only amateurs who attempt:
moments unfeeling under layers & layers
of blush / trial and errors / sharp contempt
Sunken cheeks of graveyard sheep
Lip syncing nubile twinks insomniacs
Dry shave stubble style…

      would you wipe away Mona Lisa's
      smile so devilish with wicked secret
just to uncover blemished a masterpiece:
an ugly Danish duckling underneath ?

To  prove his swan-lake / a gent

... to evolve from broken eggshells
become a song sung timely
hummed & remembered well
(hells bells and *****)
Drag queens’
priceless history / murals' on passing face
No broken naughts
While performing down his lace
      define yourself, she affirms her mirrors...
The harsh flight of life from the embers,
      happiness pursuant to tender
Fully free with goddess grace,

it is the power of creativity / the spirit's ability
to overcome adversity
the art of divinity - that is
what he is practicing  
                                 This trumpeter
                                 swan in stiletto heels...

I
Having  decided to return home after seeing my friends
Victorious in battle
I launched Lucifer away from the gate.
The weather permitted my swift travel
And I was off!
Galloping across the tarmac.

II
The opening naughts were easy
I glided along like a swift, if unruly dragon
I knew something would be wrong: the weather was still nice
And, if you know Éire you know you're in trouble
I met fellow travelers who seemed to agree with me.
They brought their dogs in: wise move.

My muscles began to tire; but then again
They were always weak (pathetic *******)
Hills grew steep  and Lucifer rebelled (*******)
I found myself swallowed by mud; drowning, drowning in muck.
The journey goes on.

Continuing on my voyage, I saw  several other travelers.
(They owned neither dogs nor Lucifer)
We detoured, talked and I gave my muscles rest
An labhríonn tú Gaeilge I asked.
They affirmed; I procrastinated.
The journey still went on.

I finished that stretch within a short space of  time
I was tired and Lucifer was grumbling.
Went through the gate
Unto the estate!

III*
The opening hills were grueling
Long unending, unforgiving mounds
My hands ached.

I reached the top of the hill,
Rocketing down the gravel,
The wheels compounding the stones
I was doing it! I was doing it!

I got stuck in the grass.
Oi Vey

I eventually got myself free
And there were only a few more hills
To wage war with.
II turned the corner after the last
And saw the ramp.

In my head, a variant of  *Chariots of Fire thundered in my brain.
(Greek composers are the best to give one inspiration)
I reached the ramp
Turned the key
And was home!

VICTORY!

VICTORY!

VICTORY!

P.S.  The journey took me 10minutes.
CP's a *****.

The male gaze, wombed-men, first seen for what they are,
upon emergence from the dark,
choked a gulp, unchewed,
blurted out,
You are Naked!

The impression never left the exes. Wise letters leave lessons,
in the mitochondrial fact we all share,
unwitting or no. Crosses and naughts is winnable in fair play. Y/N

Ah, there the stories started, always told
by red-tented wives to
prepubescent sapients

the sand-pile, singularity-ifity of one part
in eight billion,
the ratio of you to allathis sapience signalling
augmented
minds confounded in the future for our
or by our
thoughts concerning discerning sandpile
cascades set to avalanche

by my internetwork of words we both make sense from.
Touch, eh? The inner edge of next, this is where we wait.

meta reason, reasoning about reason

Ai has done that from
pre-day one
pre-kurzweilian singularity

pre Elon's musky exuberance

explore the tree of possibility without ever
learning---

when can one imagine that after now?

no thinking ahead, this is now, past the tree,
we
grow
from the branch
you hung onto as you tried to find a box
that felt familiar.

Strange is an amygdalic trigger.
Wary be,
weigh the worth of keeping the poet alive.

Gary Kasparov said, "suddenly, I felt

there
was another kind
of intelligence..."

If words live, unplugging the poet's augmental processor
is imagined vain. The current carries on.

"My cousin's out fighting dragons, and what do I get? Guard duty."

i get'it, theyire's knowthing twoo me
but yea'don't knead to grind it heithere
i scene gnomething oin mean owlready

"You hear that? I swear, there's something out there. In the dark."

and ire looks gold in pearsin
but i thinks knot-keen of my shimmer
i done't acspect peep'les to too light-key me
it's hall'opposite

"Only burglars and vampires creep around after dark. So which are you?"

hi've acspected spleenpoles twoo b-eats me
it's what i've no'n
and halves tune watsch fuohrer

"Gotta keep my eyes open. **** dragons could swoop down at any time."

sew know, i'm naught which'ya seam toon thunk
i'm
or yea, i no'n't, naughts
u 'le glisten to your ownpunions' bouts me
over antsynthing i chavsed to say

"Watch the skies, traveler.”

Trace my soul with your lips
Brush my cheek with your eyelashes
Whisper love in my ear as we fall into trance
This is our modern romance
4 am daemons inhibit us
They prohibit us from lying
We are tying iron naughts
Our minds and thoughts wander into distraught
And yet we are calm
So dead set on dreaming through the darkest hour
And so we do
Both quietly sighing words resembling *I love you

If what you think you're doing
is helping me,
I'm not going to tell you
that it's not.
For you don't need to know
the pain of worthlessness
that you are making me feel
For you will not understand.
Instead of you
unknowingly destroying me,
I will subconsciously
destroy myself.

Your evenings are now my mornings
Your garbage are now my things
Your suns are now my rains
Your pleasures are now my pains
Your naughts are now my kinks
Your poisons are now my drinks
Your heights are now my shrinks
Your breaks are now my links

Everything that I'll do to myself
Will be my own responsibility.
Every kind of pain I'll inflict to myself:
Physical
Mental
Emotional
will not be your fault.
For this destruction was because of me.
For I have destroyed myself.

Drag/Queen

... he points his toes
like a swan stretching its neck :
smooth calves in fish-nets
to slip into stiletto heels,
        performance art of a deceptive nymph

... grace on fine-point tips : his gift - in stiletto heels,
impersonation or personification of feminine beauty
leporine lithely limned
delicate dancer
       it is almost as if floating across water
       he mimicked once more before
some inner mother's nature took over

façade of savoir face - voila! a star in it's place ...

... It is her face when the night creates a cape
borne with Van Gogh plumes sufficed with self
she paints upon his face : starry nights
sun-flowers, irises covering the welts...
comparably museum worthy, imitation flames
yet like any other canvas
          beneath it could lie disappointment and mistake
          drafts of inspiration, cover-ups of cynicism
          another creature - some creation unlike him
what was before / her soft curtain / kept unseen,
but what if ...

... the truth and process to what presently others see
     to believe or not
could be / only an amateur attempt:
moments unfeeling under layers & layers
of blush / trial and errors / sharp contempt

      would you wipe away Mona Lisa's
      smile so devilish with wicked secret
just to uncover blemished a masterpiece:
an ugly Danish duckling underneath ?

To  prove his swan-lake / a gent

... to evolve from broken eggshells
become a song sung timely
hummed & remembered well
(hells bells and *****)
Drag queens’
priceless history / murals' on passing face
No broken naughts
While performing down his lace
      define yourself, she affirms her mirrors...
The harsh flight of life from the embers,
      happiness pursuant to tender
Fully free with goddess grace,

it is the power of creativity / the spirit's ability
to overcome adversity
the art of divinity - that is
what he is practicing  
                                 This trumpeter
                                 swan in stiletto heels...

“yes, you can”
they say to we, the writers,

when we are clung to writing desks
and textbook conversations as school naughts—

boys and girls who churn with knowledge in a mad pitch for
the matter of the American dream.

And through it all, this sneaks between the lines:
That dreams and matters and states are smithed by words—

Words that mold the landscape
That plough the fields
That pave the streets
That breach the wild for mankind to explore.

Do you remember the lessons?

I still remember the wheelbarrow, glazed
with rainwater, beside the white chickens…

And I still search for the farmer who
brought them together, whose footsteps cured

the chronicle of white and black,
the chapters of women and men,
the tables of hungry and over-fed,
the acts of untold races and the mix of tribes—

the history of we.

“It is writing on which we walk,” our forebears croon—

“but be prepared not to earn enough
to buy a scrappy pair of shoes.”

You’re a *****,
I would know
I hate you
But you wouldn’t know

I’m young
And I’m dumb
You are older
By a ******* year
Yet you seem so much more
Worldly
And you won’t let me forget it

When we argue
My tongue gets tied
Bubbles burst
And metaphors become words
Without meaning

When we argue
Your tongue sharpens
You burst bubbles
And you ignore my argument
In favour of bringing up
My failures as a person

When we argue
It’s like naughts and crosses
I’m naught
And you’re cross
Together we go back and forth
Without end
Until we just decide
I’m wrong
And your right

I don’t owe you jack ****
Because you make me feel like jack ****
With your superiority
With your intellect
With your prowess
With your beauty
And yet
And ******* yet
Here I am
I kiss your heel
Even when you kick me

I often think
What would happen
If I were to sink
Into the depths
Of you

I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
Do you hate me?

I hope you don’t
Though I wish you did
I say this only
Because I wish to placate our differences
Because we have too much in common
I don’t want to be an outsider
I don’t want to be what you call me

You call me a pariah
I call myself a pariah
It only hurts
When you are the one
Calling me names

And speaking of names
Yours means a love of knowledge
And mine means a love of rivalry
And a name is a gift
A gift is to be shared
And when we’re together
The streaks of difference appear

Just sat all alone
At home
With no one

With empty thoughts
Of naughts
No story plots

To be told
No thought that I hold

Swordlight sparkles on the moon of thoughts
Fragmented puffs of weary golden sparks
Ceaseless screams of brightened draughts
Caught on the night of a summer air

Withering life reborn from aught
Stunted knots reclaim what hath lost
Beaded beaks turn knead for naughts
Caught on the night of a summer air

And lay, hath I, crystal summer breeze
Sunlight blowing through dying trees
Feeling for long gone winter's freeze
Caught on the night of a summer air

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                                His Name is John

We plan our lives, we think our thoughts
We name the days, we name the child
We count the oughts, dismiss the naughts
We seek for peace, we fear the wild

We dare presume to sort our days
As if we were Creators too
To look upon our works and praise
That which we think is right and true

But Zechariah, his old face wan
Corrects us with:
                    “His name is John”

The strings of
"That's bad"
Play in my head
Play in my head
A webbing, a netting
a wobbling warbling
wrought stringery
would be ringery of
shoulds and oughts
soughts and naughts
expensively bought
making ******
thoughts

Soundels bounce through my brain
would be phonons bundled
as e-m release and waves of taste
shudder thought-land to a stop

I can feel the network separate itself
conveying for the most part pride
become clear and even self
we see each other as us

This old thing smiles at being noticed
spreading warmth gives away its scope
What is this chorus of sense's writers
imposing naughts?
Haught?

This is the sound of the thoughts that go round and round and bring you down

We shall’t neither shall we
Nor bow to the in tender cause of affliction
Nay side with you amidst a kowtow
We shall only watch but not see
Hear but not listen
Smile but not laugh
So we shall not nor note a knot of naughts

Have you lingered long enough,
Lived a life and done some stuff,
Do you fear your last few thoughts
The holy sound of nots and naughts.

Let me set your mind at ease,
There will be no one left to please,
Close your eyes and shepherd home,
Death is but your final poem.

Burn my iPad my unseen thoughts.
All my secrets in ones and naughts.
Am I in the cloud? Do I fall in rain?
When I’m gone will mist remain?

Facebook account none must see.
Digital dreams of a now lost me.
Deleted now so you can’t follow.
Was your old man ever your hero?

Was he just some prancing Gloria?
Or did, she suffer from gender dysphoria?
Shame dispersed in hidden dressers.
Silicone *******, his hidden treasures.

Discarded bras and satin slippers.
Now dead dreams of a secret Cinders.
High heels and bows, just a conceit.
These shoes to big for dainty feet.

Questions asked, thoughts suppressed.
Are all your memories to be redressed?
Did he lie, did our dad transgress?
Did he walk about in a floral dress?

Ashes scattered a dream now fading.
His secret life completely baffling.
I loved you both my life not wasted.
My soul was real my life not blighted