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!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Blue Skies by Hazel Durham )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Hey, Mister Sadducee!, Jovica Tasevski Eternijan
- Feast, Jovica Tasevski Eternijan
- Teeth, Phil Soar
- Life Withers Away..., sayantani choudhury
- Lynx, Phil Soar
- A Slumbering Tree, Akeem Alawoki
- A Mother, Phil Soar
- You, Phil Soar
- Tragedy And Terror, Ronell Warren Alman
- You Can Be A Success, Ronell Warren Alman