Blue Skies - Poem by Hazel Durham
My soul is lost forever in a dense fog,
Swirling around in a vortex at the edge of an Irish bog.
The fallen tree has now been cut up into logs,
For my open fire, to give me warmth to dream of my desire,
Hoping to find your love again,
Maybe in some deep forest, I will see that amusing glint of your spoilt eyes,
Like the hot, unforgiving sun melting the ice,
As i remember I turned to look with awe at you twice,
With the roll of the dice,
Falling blindly on the wrong nunber,
As we embraced each other, just so nice.
But your heart was made of cold, steel grey,
As you served me alcohol in Waterford crystal glass on a silver tray,
My heart had begun to fray,
With so many loose threads, in the month of May,
You stole every good thought,
As I challenged your opinion, as your agile mind fought,
To make me into your possession that didn't have to be bought.
I hear now you own small planes which you fly high up in the skies,
Always observing everything from a great distance,
Does your eyes still tell so many lies,
As I remember the way you held me at the local dance,
Blue skies have taken you away from our romance,
You live for your pleasure even when you had found your treasure,
You threw it away,
Now you search relentlessly for a new thrill to fulfil each day!
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