Sunday, November 21, 2010

When Red Is Red

The following poem is a re-post to which I've made some minor changes.


When Red is Red




When red is red...

she walks quietly along the shore
listening to the ocean's pounding roar
she knows well the lonesome highway song
seeking where, and how to belong
watching as the moon crosses the sky
pausing, she takes a moment to cry
desperate that it won't be just another game
she asks quietly, shyly, his name
stopping, she reaches out for love
waiting, watching the flight of a dove
she plans around him all of her dreams
they crumble away, fading into schemes
watching friendships pale into smoke
speaking doubts, words on which to choke
she kneels each night in despair
believing not a  soul to care
laying the blade softly upon the nightstand
drifting, she prays to find her sacred land
crystal tears shine in the dust
crimson pools betray the trust
no more chances to take
no more hearts to break
a partial note upon the bed:
when red is red

©2007 Michael Shelby

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