Song of the dead and the song of the living
Old memories become sweet dreams in old age.
Song of the dead and the song of the living.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
A combination of memories and places
I remember you. The Summer days were long and you were so beautiful.
You caught my eyes on a hot Summer day, walking near me and giving me the smile of hello.
I knew woman were delicate. Their will to love rarely rising and opening doors to secret places
and undeclared love was a gift to a lucky man.
I remember falling into gentle and kind eyes looking at me like I was worthwhile.
The sun shined brightly for us as a sedative love begin to grow wild and free.
The allure of your sweet kiss absorbed my strength to escape. I knew already.
With one sweet kiss and embrace. I would be bounded forever inside the memory of your love.
New touches raises new wants and needs. New un-chartered ground open locked doors and safety.
The sea of the night we found wild waves to ride and rode on the edge of dangerous cliffs.
We were fearless in giving promises and things we cannot return.
Nights of pleading, screaming and begging for more left us with a dead-end, one night.
We became bruised and torture in want and need that had a deadline.
You were in Germany and I was going home to the USA
I remember the wild nights, limbs twisted and trying to fulfill a hunger that grew with every touch.
You were my Juliet and I was the Romeo. I knew the goodbye would erase the good memory of our time.
Leave us dead to drown in sorrow and regret.
Song of the dead and the song of the living left me with a shrine of a memory.
We danced on delicate freedom.
I learn promises can be broken and real love is rare.
I fall to my knees sometime. I whisper a prayer about the beautiful girl who taught me love was sweet
and good. I hope she did okay?
In time, bitter memory become less painful. You remember the dance, the secret places
where lovers undress with the lights on not afraid of the final ending. Fearless and untamed
love. No better place my friend.
Coyote/John Castellenas
so haunting when you know the end is near… but yes, with time it becomes precious
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Time healed all wounds. Most times anyway. Thank you for reading and the comment.
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