September 24, 2014

 

 

Bright colours shine and dance like fire,

awakening dormant, past desire.

 

In duplicate, a wide division;

a trick that comes with double vision.

 

Yet heartache hidden, too cold to melt

a frozen block, that God’s hand dealt.

 

And all the weepers and the wailers,

stand by the dock, waving to their sailors,

 

Some may return, but no guarantee;

a fickle ruler, is that tempestuous sea.

 

No favouritism, no chosen one,

can escape their fate, from this day on.

 

So with saddened hearts they turn away,

as tears like rainfall force their way,

 

from welled up eyes, that almost say

‘Please bring my loved one, back someday’.

 

And in agony they homeward flock,

to sit-out the wait, for the dreaded knock,

 

at the door, by he, officially sent to say,

‘Forgive the news that I bring today.’

 

Though they pray each night on bended knee,

a homecoming re-union, there may never be.

 

And bright colours shine and dance like fire,

awakening dormant, past desire.

 

In duplicate, a wide division;

a trick that comes with double vision.

 

And heartache hidden, too cold to melt

the frozen block, that God’s hand dealt.

 

 

 

 

 

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