Soft sunlight drifts through
a sea of melancholy,
while shadows of time fade
to decadent memories.
Stars shine amongst nostalgia,
beauty hidden in twilight,
as I stood there watching
the seconds fleeing night.
The frosty breeze against me,
I wander to the next life,
when I hear something strange,
a flicker of hope within my strife.
A man came to my pendulum,
with wrinkles beneath his eyes.
Hollow smiles grace his lips
though he still wanted his life.
He came to me in the dark,
as dim fires behind me wept,
and he told me his stories,
his dreams he preciously kept.
He told me his life,
both dying and living,
with the name of his beloved,
his heart never lying.
He tells me a time
of when innocence had flourished,
of when he played with a girl,
their love he happily nourished.
A young, tiny girl,
who was fragile and small,
but he still lived with her,
and gave her his all.
He showered her with promises,
with books and with words,
with fairytales and limericks,
where they dreamt evermore.
Sometimes they slept,
other times they were awake,
but he led her through adventures,
through truth and his own mistakes.
He could only smile,
as he held her hand for forever.
A white dress, a white rose,
to be separated, they would never.
Family gathered, and friends crowded
the boy and the girl, with laughter.
Walking along heaven and earth
they happily gathered.
But there in the meadow they stood.
They hugged, and they cried.
The girl had to leave,
but the boy did not want to say goodbye.
The boy takes her rose,
plucking it from her hair.
He carves a ring,
though the thorns rip and tear.
He slips the ring on her,
and asks her to come home
that day.
Bells chime for midnight,
the evening slipping from daylight;
he waited through the spite of life,
never confusing the centuries with time.
I search through his memories,
as the old man crumbles to dust.
I stare at him for a while,
and my silver clock’s rust.
I remember his smile and face,
when he asked me to be his friend.
I remember the tales he spoke of,
and a happiness that would never end.
I remember the clock ticking,
the minute and hours of hopeless time,
and the riddles slipping from your mouth,
as we giggled at your foolish rhymes.
I remember Mama and Papa chuckling
at our quiet, blossoming love.
I remember their blessings,
their prayers from above.
I remember the day in the fields
when I told you I had to leave.
I remember how much you cried,
through your agony and pleas.
Still, you stole my white rose,
in those loving, soft meadows.
You made me promise
that we’d see each other tomorrow.
It all kept replaying
in the corners of my mind;
our blissful words and affections,
ticking the rhythm of our lullabies.
I miss you,
not knowing what else to do,
while the pendulum swings
between us.
