To Whom It May Concern

The Ticking of the Tock

Whilst lying in this woe, I thought that once, I’d never feel,

I hear the ticking of the tock of time that won’t stand still,

The silence in-between, shrieks steady laughter through this heart,

Subdued, now, just a little, by botched attempts to disregard,

So taunting, is the smell, of sweetened dust and dank perfume,

This pillow, that indwells, the faint acknowledgment of you,

And as I try to dream the dream that silhouettes your face,

I’m awaken by the ticking of the tock that screams your name,

It's now, I know, this heart will always settle to lament,

For the ticking of the tock will never let this mind forget.

To Whom It May Concern

To whom it may concern, this life is but a dream,

A taxing picture show which shows the wrath of certainty,

Yet, if you’re not distressed by all the rest that’s not foreseen,

Then beg I do, that you review the gist of what it means.

To whom it may concern, seems Life is not for me,

Abandoned by the bough I’ve fallen farthest from the tree,

But should your heart request to mend the mess of your decree,

Then hark, I pray, you reinstate the gift of love to thee,

For in this darkened light which hides the death of life in me,

I’ve struggled to ignite the dampened plight of Love’s disease,

And if I cannot find the undefined in your hearts beat,

Then, thus I fear the Cure is here and Death – The Go-between.

It Comes and It Goes

Like the shadows of a worn and withered walked path,

 Oh love...it comes and it goes,

Like the warmth of a sweet mid-summer nights bath,

With time...it grows so cold,

And in a flick of an instant eternity comes,

And then...eternity goes,

Like the moon playing hide and go seek with the clouds,

Oh love...it comes and it goes,

Like the ripples in the water from a puddle gone dry,

Oh love...it comes and it goes,

Like the echo of a soaring bald eagles war cry,

With time...it loses tone,

And in a flash of a memory serenity comes,

And then...serenity goes,

Like the scars in the sand that are healed by the tide,

Oh love...it comes and it goes,

And like the turning of a page in a book so old,

Oh love...it comes and it goes,

Like the telling of a thing that someone once told,

With time...it seems unknown,

And in a ...