It Seems 04
It seems as if new and old are mismatching seams,
that derive the same tapestry.
Familiar names and heartaches swim through my eyes.
My soul seems an astral ocean, fate posed as fairy
stirring the streams with a song of memory.
Torn between the stars, the pieces of my heart,
and tears that eminate what is, was, or may be, of life
Silky caresses of dreams strum the harp to form her song
It falls upon silence, of people come and gone
Like the summer grass licking every last dropp of dew,
before the sun drys it away.
As if it were a prayer that reality may not take