Your voice against the contrast
Of the rubble in my mind
Brings me back to tender moments
Void of consequence or time

Those glorious days of magic
When we danced on streets of gold
Now in shades of gray so tragic
Plays as lovely words unfold

There’s birdseed on my windowsill
While outside children cry
Memories no one feeds upon
As pain we can’t deny

Your voice reveals the melody
Beyond those joy’s we shed
Sorting through our poverty
From the corner of my bed

Sing to me of broken dreams
Black coffee
Blood rust stains
Holding hands and sipping wine
Sweeping up our love’s remains

Into piles of disenchantment
Decorations of disgrace
Portraits of a vain existence
Lines as lyrics for my face

There’s a raven on my windowsill
Glass in shards abound
Summer sun through curtain lace
Destruction all around

It’s feeding on the never was
And all that could have been
Flying into darkness
Where the truth is never seen

But love prevails in notes so pure
Glory days of life so fine
Plays against the contrast
Of the rubble in my mind

Some words of hope nobody hears
In puffs of smoking rings
Fading fast into the day
Between the words you sing

TM DiSarro

©2020 TM DiSarro / MindScapes Publishing

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