The sun climbs high on this warm afternoon,
bathing in the sun while dreaming on the moon,
lying on a hillside, friends are coming soon,
thoughts drifting in the breeze, this day I wish to seize,
but carpe diem lay quiet under the buzzing of bees,
and another breeze comes, the places it has seen, where is it from?
So the great oak shook, and his wisdom I took,
to piece together the next few pages in this book.
Laughter on a starry night, seats by a lamp post,
stories in a hot cup of coffee, tell me how the night goes,
the night carries on and the soft northern wind blows,
memories of past years, look how fast time flows,
the setting sun dims, and the sprawling urban light glows,
an eternal night like this, only the blissful mind knows.
They keep telling you to stop living in the past,
add some liquor to it and chase it down with the fast,
holding onto reminiscence like the clinging frost on my wine glass,
drinking drops to endure the sour, and let the bitter taste last,
and the last taste, ends the authentic state of mind,
the only reality once lay there in that glass of wine.
Picking at the scab of a broken heart,
to re-open wounds is a true lover’s mark,
disgust, causing you to tear feelings apart,
old letters, old notes, this is what the beating heart once wrote?
Cold heart, new folk, tears racing down a sore-throat?
Four numbers, few jokes, intentions behind black smoke,
What she had said, that she spoke, what memories can you evoke?