Tag: love

Soup For One

Shared tables not separate tables | Better Lives for People in Leeds

I don’t remember what I wore
Or who sat next to me
I don’t remember who cried more
And who came just to see

I don’t remember hymns they played
The readings that were read
Or why he paused before he said
That you weren’t really dead

I just remember how you looked
When you slept next to me
The Sunday dinners that you cooked
And how you sipped your tea
Those corny jokes you always told
Which rarely made me laugh
How next to you I looked so old
In every photograph

I don’t remember telling you
To leave me all alone

I don’t remember telling you
I’d be fine on my own

I don’t remember

Time Lapse

I brush your hair and talk of things
You still remember.
The torch that lit the songs we’d sing
Now just an ember.
I pour the tea
You study me
And wonder why
I still come by.
I dig out photos of the boys
More reminiscing.
Now in a house devoid of noise
Each night you listen.
A vigil kept
While fear has crept
Into a mind
That’s been confined.
Sinatra’s on the radio
And works his magic.
This world which you no longer know
At once, less tragic.
It was our song
You hum along
Then understand
And take my hand

Decimulled

AOL You've Got Mail Voice Man Is an Uber Driver

I have a friend, Mr Dearden

Statistics say he’s one in ten

Who lives at Number 2-2-3

Look for the house that has a tree.

His job is fixing old machines

Throughout the night, by any means

Days off, he reconditions cars

And meets his mates in select bars.

Devoted uncle, brother, son

He always calls before I’ve rung

To wish me all the very best

Before our family’s even dressed.

We’ve different circles, different pasts

And yet this quaint connection lasts

For out of nowhere he’ll appear

If only once or twice a year.

As for this figure: one in ten

I’ll need to look at it again

For should I know one million men

I could not meet as dear a friend

Over, Lord

I bade my love compose an ode

To prove her heart was true

Reciting To Him All Is Owed

She blushed the whole way through.

I bade my love prepare a feast

Befitting of her lord

She cooked for me the finest beast

Her dowry would afford.

I bade my love take out a boat

And clear the moat of trolls

She caught each one and cut its throat

Then stuck their heads on poles.

I bade my love tend to my aches

With liniments and oils

She rid my skin of every flake

And lanced a string of boils.

Then comes a time when passions end

When leaves droop with the frost

I bade my love invite her friend

That’s when she said get lost.

Roll, Play

Episode #1 - The History of Makeup | Time Travel Series with Scott Bar | Scott Barnes

My love, you’re a Tahitian girl

That dances on the sand

Who charms the breeze with every twirl

And gesture of her hand.

My love, you’re absinthe through the veins

Each time my lips are kissed

A cruel elixir bringing pain

Which no man can resist.

My love, to me you are a song

Whose chorus fills the air

Inviting men to sing along

Allaying their despair.

My love, your powdered skin’s as soft

As petals on a rose

Its luring scent designed to waft

With each layer you expose.

Alas! Another’s at your door

I thank you for your art

In truth, our love’s a game, no more

And you have played your part.