Sacha Hayes O'Grady Poems

The spider knits its silver web,
In hope to seize a falling star,
While all the while the moon does ebb,
Still gazing at it from afar.
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All mortal creatures pass away
Like shadows of a winter's day;
Those ecstasies that we pursue
Which crimson youth once thought it knew,
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Mere words alone cannot express
The hurt which in me I do feel,
For now I am companionless,
A soul which Nature thought to steal
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Where have you gone. How did those years
Turn now into so many tears.
The small expressions of your face
And eyes which leave no earthly trace.
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I am a ghost among the crowd
Between the living and the dead,
As a shadow or passing cloud
I drift without a home or bed.
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Who profits while the people pay,
Both blood and oil stain the earth,
Peace comes through war, or so they say,
And intermix with equal worth.
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If I should wake up and be old,
I'll lie beneath a willow tree,
To let rememembrances unfold
Of all that I once used to be.
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On Death's dark path, my friend has gone,
That final road we fear to tread,
Confined to dust, a light which shone
How all too brief, for He is dead.
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Beneath the dome of ancient night,
When owls awake, and poets write,
My lover sleeps, the sylvan child,
With flowers that are strange and wild.
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With eyes of anguish, and of pain,
In desperation look on me;
Eyes that blaze from out that pane,
Disturbed in their fragility.
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