Tale Weaver No 106 9/2/17 – Touch

Goodbye my friend, have a safe trip
We held our hands in a strong grip
As the train goes, I see him cry
I’ve got other places to try
Dried my eyes and gave a short yip

In a land of sadness, broken dreams are made
Which strip away any vital connection
And life was gravely portrayed
His name no longer mentioned

Of empty sheets and promises
No sense in carrying on
When everything is aimless
I’ve been conned and he’s gone

When poems are so melancholic
His name no longer part of my speech
Life could be mysterious and cryptic
Acceptance could be beseeched

While firmly grasping the goblet by the stem
I used to be happy and carefree
He could no longer be condemned
I just have to accept that I’m free

As the Ferris wheel spins
I touch my necklace and grin
Can be good or evil, these jinns

I dance with the stars
Sit down and write my memoir
Sometimes window shop in a bazaar

Translucent like water drops
Hope they don’t just plop
In the morning great dewdrops

Vapid and empty sentiments
We used to be lovers once
It’s all black in your absence

Stunning pictures in a grid
Don’t come again, God forbid
Or else I’d do something to outdid

Trip to the moon and back
Please don’t ever come back
You’d be hit with a hefty thwack

Seems like a dream this trip
The one you did was such a gyp
You deserve a rip and whip

 

For: Tale Weaver No 106 9/2/17 – Touch