The day’s hot-the wind like a convection oven
Blows hot air in our faces.
My cap and gown insulates me
Baking me like a potato wrapped in aluminum foil
I desperately fan myself and look around
My eyes search for my peers and see;
The bros that survived school with me;
The others who shouldn't have;
The girls with memories already wet in their eyes;
The people I never met and will never know;
All desperately fanning themselves
In silence and in waiting.
We all are waiting for the same thing-
What's next to come.
For some it will be their names
For another a trip to boot camp
For many including myself- college
A couple can't wait to forget the tortures of high school
And a few will already be planning our high school reunion
because it was the best years of their life.
As I bow my head, not out of sadness,
but out of sheer defeat by the sun,
I scuff up my dress shoes in the clumpy grass of the field-
that just finished another infamous drawn out lacrosse season,
I'll be thinking about the 4 plus years, 8 seasons,
worth of drilling and conditioning I did in that very field and on the surrounding track,
With a flash of ivory across my sweating face
I'll be thinking about
All the nooks and crannies
that I sanctioned for the intimate meetings of my girlfriends
The times caught and not,
All the heartbreaks and rejections,
The friends made, the best friends kept, and the many lost.
The drama, stupidity, and immaturity,
Everything that was and used to be.
And, all this time spent waiting-preparing
for this one moment
You can't help but remember it all
And with one, final sweet goodby-
You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit
We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you
You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love
If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home
5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's Day. Sadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.
You have lighted up my world..
Now you're the one I am dreaming of
Dont you know,
I can sit here forever,
Just looking into your eyes?
The things I see there
Always take me by surprise
but I don't see you coming...
I see you standing there;
so close but still barely out of reach;
I want to be closer to you,
so I'm on my way...
I will be missing you
I will be missing the places we used to know..
wish i could carry you with me
I hope I make you a little happy too
I am not saying goodbye
I know I'll see you again
I would be crying in that strange city
and you wouldnt be there..
but I will carry on..
6.22.11 (my goodbye poem before I boarded the plane)
it was already dark outside
silence had totally ruined the night
only my lampshade in my room was at my side
trying to comfort me in all my sorrows and trembling fear inside
as soft tick-tocks of the clock were heard
my heartbeat increased its rate
I asked, “Are they reckoning that few time for him has already been left?”
I began to feel, I was already in abyss of despair
the phone had rung for the second time
my mom and aunt once again were at the other end of the line
thunder storms blasted followed by a torrent of rain
when they asked me to talk to my dad to finally say goodbye to him
I tried to talk to him but he could no longer answer me
despite the silence at the other end
I didn’t stop begging him
I cried and cried out so hard
as the darkest moment started creeping through my veins
until my aunt answered the phone in lieu of him
begging me back to let him go, so as to release him from all the pains
to say the word goodbye to my dearest dad
was the hardest thing to do in my whole life
it had totally broken my heart and seemed as if I was losing my mind
so, I kept crying out and begging him to fight
he’s miles away and I couldn’t just reach him out or to be right there on his
I knew he can hear me, so I kept reminding him
about what I’ve promised when I went back home
to spend a short time and took care of him
I’d promised that I’ll fly right back home after my work
to take care of him again and walk him out of the door
together we supposed to walk around our house with his arms on my
my aunt begged me for the last time to finally free him
it was against my will but I decided to do what was best for him
when he was finally gone, I unconsciously screamed
alone in my room miles away from home, I was in deep pain
I felt like I was totally engulfed by the darkest of the night
I rolled my body on bed, crying out loud and hugging my pillows so tight
wishing someone had to put me into trance, so I closed my eyes
while in prayer, I imagined him waving goodbye
as he finally went up there through the brightest light
©2013by Leonora Galinta
Contest: New Poem
Poet Sponsor: Poet Linda/PD
Fear is my pain alone.
Death is what you wished,
so now let me go.
In my remorse I am scared no more.
For this pain and fear is all I have,
left to show.
When you bury me let go,
of what love and hate,
you have left to show.
For Fear and Pain is what you deserve.
No longer in my remorse.
It was a bright morning,
He sat on the bed rubbing his eyes to draw the curtains apart.
The place next to him in the bed was empty,
As the jewellery box without the jewels.
She was gone, for now and forever,
Not coming ever again, he new.
He closed his eyes to pray for his beloved as a tear,
Rolled down his cheek,
He wanted to ask God but had promised himself he wouldn't ever do that,
Why people cheat, why do they change? Why do they leave?
Those cuddling moments, all the fun moments,
All those priceless handmade gifts,
Didn't they mean even a thing?
Even tears don't fall down now,
Eyes don't get wet, mind doesn't get numb,
With her thoughts, letting her go was the only resort.
He knows he loves her, always will,
She is married now,
And now even he has bowed to the destiny.
He wishes, the best for her
Forever and Always.
In memory of Bob
A true story.
It was in spring of two thousand when I first saw Bob. I’d just started working at Perth Dental hospital, and in fact it was my first day there. I walked up to the front door of this building, but it wasn’t yet opened. So I turned around and went to sit in the bus shelter which was just outside the building. As I went to sit down I noted a dark skinned gentleman sitting there with a happy, benign look on his face. He was about five feet eight give or take a little, and he was rather a thickset man who looked like he’d done his fair share of hard work in his sixty years or more.
There was something about this Gentleman that I could not quite put my finger on. He had a certain charisma about him; not the phony kind of charisma that one seen in the car salesman or the philanderer who messes with women’s heads, no, Bob had a kind of friendly smile for everyone that he met, and he seemed to draw people into him with his love, and gigantic heart. I knew as soon as I met him that Bob was most definitely for me.
As Bob looked at me and smiled, the whole world seemed to open up. He said “Ow ya going mate” in a loud ebullient manner, then we started to chat. Bob was like myself, a thinker, and straight away we started philosophizing about this, that, and the other, and it was like we had known each other forever. Then all of a sudden I found Bob talking about death, and the difference in the way the Maori people faced death, compared to the rather the silly way us white folk look at the subject with great fear in our hearts. Now this had always interested me, and somehow it just seemed natural to talk to this Maori gentlemen on this subject, and we spoke about it till the doors opened and it was time to work.
I don’t think anything happens just by chance, and I definitely have this feeling that Bob and I were meant to meet, and I really think this was a major destiny thing. I have found during the course of my life, that as I am aging, I can feel something pushing me into a certain direction, and I always felt that Bob was part of all this; and I had much to learn from him. Although I have never believed in organized religion, and never followed one I have always felt deeply spiritual, and I have met many people who I learned from, and Bob was most definitely one of them with all his great wisdom and patience. As I came to know Bob, we had many dialogues together, on many subjects. Bob used to love music and could always have time to plonk away on his guitar. He used to come round to my place and we would play songs together, though both he and I were no Eric Clapton’s, I would bang around on my guitar and play the harp, while we would both take out turns at singing. We’d have a smoke or a beer or two, and we’d play songs all day long, ahhh, I remember those days well, the memories are so strong.
Bob was one hell of a man, I could tell that he had been a wild one in his youth,
But when I knew him in his sixties he was an icon of wisdom and virtue; he had a kind word for everyone, and gave all his time to anybody who needed him, always.
He used to hear me waffling on like an idiot, trying to make him like me [as I always did] but never once did he tell me how foolish I was, he would just smile knowingly at me. He used to stand there at the window for hours, just drinking in the trees, or the clouds in the sky, and yet he was so aware, I used to try to sneak up on him; it couldn’t be done. His awareness was incredible.
Then one day Bob fell ill with terminal cancer, and he knew that he had very little time left on this Earth. He lay there sick for days in intolerable pain, but you never heard one complaint from him, even when he only had days to live, he was still worrying about the welfare of others. When the day finally come for Bob to leave his shell; he was lying there in deep sleep, when all of a sudden he woke up, with a smile on his face. His children asked him ‘Dad, do you want some pain killers” Bob laughed, compassion written all over his face, and he said to them ‘Not one of you has a clue, have you’ and he died with a big smile on his face.
His daughter got in touch with me, and told me about his death, and also told me that his last wish was to have me watch his soul leave his body. I felt very honored about this and went and sat with his body [as Maoris do]. I got the most peaceful feeling come to me [which I presume was his spirit leaving his body] as I watched his silent body, a Mari war stick and a beautiful rose lay across his chest. I still see it, and I feel blessed by it. He was my Maori warrior, and I adored the man.
If President Obama wants to release
all of the terrorists still incarcerated
at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba in a quick
and safe manner, just throw the creeps
into the Gulf Of Mexico and let the sharks
eat their sorry asses. These rat bastards
lived totally worthless lives and for them to
end up as shark turds at the bottom of the sea
will not only make the world a safer place
in which to live but as an added bonus,
the President will get brownie points galore
from the animal rights groups. If there ever
was a win-win situation, this is surely it.
Theres a very simple thing in life, and its called love. Love conquers all. Love has conquered me, finally. Conquered me by knowing, feeling, living unconditional love.
Born into love, live it, breathe it, fall in love, fall out of love, love has conquered you.
I thought my love for you conquered the love you didn’t have for yourself or the love you thought did not exist. And briefly it was there. My love has been twisted, abused, assaulted and antagonised. I thought this was to my detriment, but it is to my growth.
My love, my truth, my honesty has been distorted beyond recognition where by I no longer recognise you.
This is where I jump ship and leave you with the memory, memories that are.
Ups and down, in and outs, I have set sail for whatever comes my way.
Love is not measurable, love is not sex, love is not man or woman or love for one or other. Love is love. Love is knowing.
This is not love, any more. So saddens me to say.
Please forgive me for what I've done.
Take away these lies and promises that I couldn't keep.
Dig a grave, where I will forever sleep.
Take away these memories there no good to me.
Let it burn through my skin to bone.
Take away this love that I yield no more.
Let my ashes burn deep to the pores.
Take away what's left of me.
And let my mistakes pass on.
Alone I sat waiting for the it to come it never did
My heart began pumping as my neck began to sweat that cold dark night,
Petrified and unable to move even the smallest of muscles to make movement.
I heard a creaking in the floor below me, I lay still with fear and this feeling its not Ok.
Knowing now my only option was to run and release myself from this horrifying place called sleep,
Trying so hard with much effort I swiftly swing my feet over the bed still stiff and terrified ,
I let out a scream deep from my vocal chords as something grabbed my ankles I froze,
eventually gaining strength I shook free on my hands and knees I went down hard to the floor.
Questioning what has brought me here to this awful place?
As I crept towards the door in the doorway a man in a dark suite cocky smile points at me with his devilish eyes and leaves me with a hurt in my body of sickness to come and drained of all life as he grabs my throat holds me up close and whispers
Gail Angel Doyle has now left the site
Her inspirational poems were a pure delight
I’m heartbroken that people here have caused her distress
She wrote a blog that she was leaving then changed her mind and wrote one saying she was taking a break but sadly now she is closing her account.
24th July 2014
I saw your pain compressed in
Tourniquets and plungers.
Memories condensed to tears.
Cooling your hand holding bottles.
Dripping in puddles that flowed,
With white wind down glass tubes.
When you pressed for it,
I asked you;
Why you wanted too
So badly –
Maybe you did not hear me.
Then I asked -
For the attention?
But you were done talking.
“The affection is still free”.
I should try not to waste sentences.
At the hour of mid morning,
I remembered when I first saw you.
Walking up the sidewalk,
And I thought to myself:
Yes, I would - So I did.
Smiling ghosts made perfect faces,
Dancing off cigarettes on my front porch..
Yours ran to catch you.
As I watched with mine,
You walking home.
I pass a year and you in a store,
I heard you don’t cry the same,
Not like you used to.
You looked happy - I guess,
Or maybe it was, I hope you are.
Friend, whatever brought your life to end
had no appetite for mouse flesh, nudged your
small gray body on its side with thorough sniffing
and left your corpse exposed on the asphalt path,
then, for reasons of its own, wandered off
for something more substantial and better
suited to its hunger.
Flies hover over you like tiny buzzing vultures.
So, too, ants now engage in a reconnaissance
over the big gray hill that rose up during
the night from the asphalt when yesterday
it had been an unobstructed flat surface.
Your demise, friend, is only a beginning.
Nature is very resourceful and expedient.
In a day or two, inner microbes will rise within you
and inflate your small trim frame to twice its size,
then deflate you to a dried out, flat gray rug
with tail, unless another creature’s hunger
first makes you its meal.
As mice go, your reputation did not
exceed that brotherhood of dreaded outcasts –
rats, snakes, bats, and spiders –
humans can barely mention and not shudder.
Decency compels me to inform you
that you will be given no formal burial.
That honor – or vanity, depending on your
viewpoint – humans reserve solely for
themselves; no eulogy, no flowers, not even
a headstone to verify the fact that you lived
and died – all of which even the vilest of our kind
receive, as though a residue of dignity remained
in them. You will pardon our vanity and irrationality.
Death does not change any life, it seals it.
It is the one event humans cannot explain
satisfactorily or agree upon. And yet death is
as common as weather, no day is without
the dark cloud of its knowledge or presence.
It exceeds, possibly, all human fears, real
or imaginery, and it plays cruel sport with
the imagination, all of which, little mouse,
you have been spared.
Few spectacles can match its elaborate rituals
and ceremonies, not to mention its afterlife scenarios
and aspirations, centuries old, stale, and reeking
with the smell of arrogance and irrationality; and not
forgetting its lofty, eloquent but empty
pronouncements and unreasoned speculations,
all devised to camouflage, deny, and ultimately
transform death’s otherwise simple and natural
reality, which is nothing more than
the absence of life.
No, little friend, none of this will attend
or insult your demise. Let it suffice that you
are no more, as we also will be one day.
Earth has decreed it so.
Difficult as it is to say, neither I nor anyone
can offer you hope beyond the sleep that now
holds you as the hawk’s talons holds its prey.
You have been ousted from the house of life,
the doors are locked, the windows sealed.
You are forever barred from reentering.
No redemptive price has been paid for you,
though you are not unworthy, and why not
I am at a loss to explain. No act of faith outside
your earthly life was asked or demanded of you.
And yet, far more than humans, you were
faithful to the laws imposed on you, though no
reward or better life was held out to you.
You lived the only life you knew. and you
lived it well, without questioning, without
complaint, without bitterness. I tell you, friend,
there is no greater achievement.
The dead exist only in the minds of them who once
knew them. They, not the dead, need to be consoled.
But who of your kind will console you?
As parting words, I can offer you only this
assurance: All living things share the same earth,
the same eventuality, all are destined to return there.
It is, I imagine, easier for you to accept this,
for you had no pretentions beyond this life,
this planet, and so your going down was only
a small step from no imagined height.
And now, you will pardon me if I lift you by
your tail and put you to rest in a setting
more suited to what you were once accustomed to,
and one I believe you would approve –
beneath a quilt of brilliant fallen leaves.
Nothing special or symbolic, just a natural covering.
As for me, and the rest of my kind who walk this earth,
it is the dark light of life they have become
accustomed to, not the natural darkness
you, little mouse, have entered.
Rest, then, in that uneventful darkness.
Rest, then, little mouse.
Dad, this my apology and a prayer of farewell.
To you and me.
So maybe I can feel that you have forgiven me.
And all the things in my life now make since.
Your sad gray eyes haunt me at night.
I can never forget that you have left.
I can’t seem to let go because it feels as I am letting go of my past.
Goodbye to a little girl who misses the comfort of being a daddy’s girl.
Goodbye to cuddles at night and chocolate-chip pancakes in the morning.
I cried for your soul and hope that your happy where you are.
Please send me a sign so I know your al right.
Goodbye to memories of a man singing as he played his guitar with his soul.
How can I explain the pain when I remember my life as before.
Goodbye to the roughness of your cheek each time I kissed you goodbye.
I have forever changed and feel I haven’t ever made you proud.
So now I long to pick up a phone and call to say “Hi!”.
I would have given my life just for a hour to tell you thanks.
I need your courage and strength when life strikes me down.
Goodbye to stern lectures of life.
I miss seeing your face and laughter when it rains.
Or how your face lighten up when my children yelled,,“Grandpa!”.
I never thought it would ever end up this way.
I feel that chance played a hard joke on us and now I am paying for it.
I just can’t get past this because your not here to guide me through this.
So I sit and ponder on streams full of memories and times that seemed so long gone.
Like the vast ocean I drown away trying to drift back to some kind of sanity.
I close my eyes and here the jingle-jangle of your keys as you limp on by.
I miss the pat on the back or the tightness of my hand enclosed in yours to reassure me it
would be al right.
I think of so many goodbye to you..
Goodbye to the way your hair stood up after waking up.
Or how we laughed when you snored.
Goodbye to yelling at the boys when they were misbehaving.
But the most that always hurt is the goodbye to you.
Because it seems that centuries have passed since I last saw you.
Even if it’s been a few years.
The world is cruel and I often wonder what to do?
I question that this is the end, for the pain isn’t gone.
It consumes my soul as I try to go on.
As a reminder of finer things in life.
I look to the sky and search for a sign that you are up there somewhere near by as always
They came in at the appointed hour
to attend and witness and grieve,
the friends and practitioners
with the laying on of hands
and the murmuring of soft voices
Leg muscles quiver at the shot,
soft whimpers and welling eyes
as willing grief drips from her nose
quietly onto the shiny black coat
Hands stroke the shallow breathing chest
to feel and take a part of the parting
until stethoscope silence is certainty
- the long minute of the long release
Hearts never harden to those loved
the circle feels vast in the moment
as final goodbyes are wept
and "I love you" is whispered
© Goode Guy 2012-12-09
Note: Written back before McVeigh's execution for Oklahoma City terrorist bombing.
No fans in hell
McVeigh requesting one now
For hot summer ahead
Can't blow away guilt
Still in remorseless cell
Wanting now to live
No one more undeserving
Laughing at his victims
Feel the heat Tim?
Not of scorching sun
But of burning Hades
Just around the corner
Years torchering victim's families
Only days from over
Cold needle quietly waiting
Ashcroft sealing your fate
Won't be long now
Awakening to victim's faces
Screaming in your ears
This your eternal reward
O.J. your soul mate
No worry being lonely
He'll be along later
You and Lucifer waiting
Copyright © 2001 - 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved
"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."
© 2014 Robert William Gruhn
From Judges 11.
His brothers cast the young man out, the child of an harlot;
He fled away to distant Tob before they found an outlet
For anger, more than what they'd done, to fully disinherit
And drive him from his father's house, though not for foul demerit
Within himself, but all for greed- it made them hate their brother.
Now Jephthah lives his life alone, without a father, mother;
He goes about with newfound friends, considered rather shady:
At least he does not get too wild; he found himself a lady,
And has a one and only child, a daughter like her mother.
She's tall and slim, with long, black hair; as fair as any other,
And loves to dance and sing and play her timbrels with the daughters
Of the mighty men of Tob, who play their music by the waters
Of the brimming banks of Yarmuk; lovely music, song, and dancing,
In the evening, in the twilight, which is wordlessly enchanting;
So much so that all the stars come out before the sun has drifted
Below the burning desert sands, thus Nature's course has shifted
From what it was, what e'er has been his want, his call of duty,
And all to see some pretty maids who sing and dance with beauty.
The Ammonites come, bent on war, on taking land and cattle;
They'd kill the men of Gilead and claim the spoils of battle:
The land that once belonged to Sihon, which Israel gained possession,
Then Joshua allotted to the sons of Gad and Reuben.
Thus Ammon claimed what was not his, but what he thought he needed;
And Israel must be captained well, or else they'll be defeated.
The elders ride in haste to Tob, to Jephthah's lordly dwelling
To find the man who would be best and see if he is willing;
But Jephthah said, "Did you not hate me? Did you not expel me
Out of my father's house, and now you come to me and tell me
Of your need when in distress? If I by some rare providential
Act of mercy be successful, will you lay aside resentful
Ways and set me over you?" And this they would; they needed badly
A man who knew the art of war, who charged in battle madly;
So they agreed and made him captain over all the forces,
The leader of the fighting men, the officers, and horses.
Then Jephthah vowed a vow to God, he said, "If Thou wilt give me
A vict'ry over Ammon, then returning I will give Thee
Whatsoever first will greet me at the doorway of my dwelling
As an offering of fire for a savor sweet of smelling
Unto Thee." And having spoken he departed to the battle
With his whole command of soldiers, with a clash and tramp and rattle:
And they smote and killed the Ammonites until the Plain of Vineyards;
In twenty cities passing through as Jephthah drove them downwards.
The town of Mizpeh heard the news and every mouth was voicing
The praises of their leader and his soldiers with rejoicing;
Then, as they saw him from afar, the townsfolk all assembled
To cheer their hero, now their judge; but mighty Jephthah trembled,
For as he came unto his house his daughter came to meet him
With timbrels and with dances from his door she came to greet him;
Her raven tresses bouncing, and her flowing dresses swirling;
Her face alight with happiness, and glowing as she's twirling.
She smiles at her hero from the battlefront returning,
But he cannot return it for the raging storm that's churning
Inside himself, and making him so weak and sick and frightful
For his daughter, lovely daughter, blessed with grace and so delightful.
And he said, "O sweet Celena, you have cast my spirit downward,
For I've vowed a vow that's binding, and I cannot take it backward;
I have sworn to make a sacrifice of fire of whatever
First would meet me at the doorway of my house; but I had never
Thought that it should be a person, but a heifer or a doeling,
Or perhaps a dove or pigeon." Here he stopped, for tears were rolling
Down his cheeks, and rent his clothing as he stood there, crushed and grieving;
Amazed at what he'd done, and even now not quite believing
His hand must wield the wicked knife; his hand must light the fire;
His hand must end his daughter's life; his hand must build the pyre.
He stared at his offending limbs, said, "Would to God I'd lost them;"
For now he had to tell his wife how much his oath had cost them.
Then Celena, brave Celena said, "Perform what you have spoken;
For the Lord has taken vengeance and the Ammonites are broken:
Only grant me two months longer so that I and my companions
May bewail my virgin state among the mountains and the canyons."
One word was all that he could say, the one word, "Go," and held her
A moment to his bosom as his teary eyes beheld her;
A chain of gold about her neck, dress gay with colored sashes;
A tremble in her ruby lips, a teardrop in her lashes.
Then turning from her father, to the wilderness she stumbled;
Her eyes so filled with tears that down the road she tripped and tumbled,
And lay a while in the deep, deep dust that rose above her;
Then stripped her golden necklace, one gold ring and then the other
And threw them from her to be swallowed by the dusty powder:
"What good is gold?" she softly mumbled, crying ever louder.
Retreating to the lonely cliffs, the desert's jagged mountains,
Where desolation reigns enthroned, except for by the fountains
And streams that bring a thread of life, that ever downward trailing
Flows by the place where seven maidens gather as they're wailing
The loss of faithful friend, the favored, beautiful Celena,
Who would not flee, but e'er would be the dutiful Celena,
Submitting to her father's vow, though leading to her dying.
The place that used to ring with song and laughter fills with crying;
And music now is sighing of the maids and lonesome whispers
Of the wind. And those who danced are aimless wanderers and drifters,
Seldom speaking: consolation is but vain when 'tis imparted
To a soul whose days are numbered when its life has barely started.
I saw this picture and it reminded me of many great and endless thoughts, dreams, wishes, but mainly my old life and how much more fun it could be now that I am older.
If life used to be that beautiful and spontaneous why the hell did I let it ever end. Not just the girl- not even the girl. That passion for life, for the smallest thing t hat I take for granted now. On the picture it says love or lust.
Why not loving lust-lusting for love. Waking up in the morning laughing for no reason and having an adventure every day. I feel like I went to sleep eight years ago and I am just now slowly waking up.
Better late than never.. to be honest this picture helped my self-induced coma. I simply felt that if I let myself feel for the person in the picture the way I did and things turned out the way they did. Well it kind of made me an ass....It also made me appreciate things that I never would have. I'll be the first to admit that it is been way overdue. When I see this photo now I just smile and it reminds me that I am capable of whatever I want. I miss that feeling and I can' t believe I let it take this long. Any way, I am ready for a new life; I am not sure what is in front of me, but I am ready to find out.Ten years later she came back and we were engaged but karma didn't agree.Though when i wake up i always smile you see.
I’ll Say Goodbye With Kisses Three
I remember up to this day
The price I had to pay…
The day I first held your gaze,
For many nights and many days,
I remember that time we swore
We’d be together for evermore.
But now I stand here all alone
Dreaming of what we could have known…
Do you remember we used to dream?
About the things we may have been?
We lay among the fields of gold,
But the truth still remained untold.
I stand here in the same place,
Where I used to look into your face.
Holding the rose you gave to me,
And say goodbye with kisses three.