Lovebirds in lost gardens

 

Life is a notepad,

lay bleeding on my bed,

the words weeping,

it seems they seep in

through the words I never said.

The ink I left to dry

scrawls questions asking why

The blotted tear drop ink

that I always seem to cry,

offers no answers in reply.

 

The previous pages,

a scrapbook

of precious

photographs,

faded memories.

Dates etched in cemeteries

notes scribbled on old oaks,

in the corners of old streets

along the borders we would meet

Poems written 

in the margins.

then scribbled out.

 Lovebirds in lost gardens.

Written doubts

left to simmer down.

 

Sprawling maps to happiness,

scrawled in sketched lines,

entwined within the leaves,

of the leather bind.

Through the deserts

and over rivers,

through lush fields

of purple lilies.

To where the treasure sits

marked with an x

 

Life has many blank pages,

the notepad only shows

the places been,

the things your eyes

have already seen.

So, open each new page,

see the wonders

each chapter shows.

The future unwritten,

and the paper glows.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Endless Nightmares out now

300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelliung

 https://amzn.to/42H2OGw

Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"

100+ all new poems not shared here before.

https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages

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Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle