Long Forgotten (day 749)

Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
Love is sadness that carries golden rays of sun towards dusk
Did sounds of heartache keep you awake at night
Blood oozing from hands that toiled for your fortunate future

Will you still love me when my hands have wrung themselves dry
Sitting here dancing with eyes around the moon tonight
Our dreams dressing up in black and white shoes
Placing our love into lust into locks of curly golden brown hair
Twirling ourselves round and round to the tune of trumpets in summers night air

Will you still love me when my hands have curled against time
Sheltering our eyes against the hours of sunlight
Carefully pulling apart leaves that shelter the garden
Shaking away caterpillars nibbling on precious shards of life

Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
When history remains and old friends have long forgotten
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
When the story ends will there still be a thought
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust

Unknown (day 314)

I’ve flicked the switch into the landscape unknown
It’s rocky, so perhaps then I do know the unknown
Perhaps it leads me to doors I’ve already crossed
And hands I’ve already shaken
Perhaps the golden wings that watch my way
Have slipped through these tracks
Racing against time to make the next happy hour
Resisting the urge to buy yet another round on inflation

Then perhaps I’ve just looked the other way
As the violins play this lonely song along my own yellow brick road
“Cool-y he walks with a keen gaze and a saunter in tow”
Light dipping as he reaches his destination
Pulse quickening as he sees his obsession
Hand slipping as he feels his erection
But the wind dies down, allowing the leaves to come to rest
The calloused palms also find their idle locale

..and the trumpets announce his arrival