souls-of-artists

People – they lie and cheat and change and hurt
All so many do is treat others like a pile of dirt
They can be friends one day and change the next
Looking only for money, drugs or even just sex
That seems to be the way of the world now
Something that has become acceptable to allow
But it is a sad truth that many will not admit
Through this time of hatred, it seems so few make it
We used to be so very close, you and I were
But I'm afraid that you've begun to change good sir
I no longer recognize the person you have become
What is left of who you were? Fore I see not a crumb…
The hurt you cause us, I know you cannot see
And I know that you will probably disagree
But the evidence is just too clear
You've changed to much, my friend, my dear
Maybe one day we'll see the person you were
And maybe then things can go back to the way they were before

The breeze tousles through the night and his hair.
He sits in expectance for her to come here;
waiting for her to come this way.
Like that first time; her footsteps echoed so loud.
In a night as such not even the moon could be proud.
An ethereal glow she emitted, an embodying light.
The wind ruffled her black locks like an angel in flight.
Her breath was a sanctifying whisper of life
and her dress; oh a woven fabric of natures device.
Her soft traces upon the earth would have grown
the fruit bearing brushwood, piercing through a stone.
The hair settled; the wings retreated, her eyes slowly set
on a young boy tending tulips. Their gaze just then met.
He stared; what else could he do; she stood a little away.
The moon too curtsied to her outlining her portrait.
He stood tranquil, the tulip yet held in his hand.
She smiled and approached like a being with command.
She took the tulip, sniffing in its fragrance, sighing so deep,
the earth purred in compliance underneath her feet.
She smiled