
A Poem for You
Hiding in the forest waiting for the dawn
Winding through the brambles, flesh and fingers torn
Darkness seemed like daylight here amidst the trees
Wounds upon my body only my disease
Sitting on a dead bark gazing at the pond
Studying the water knowing nothing was beyond
The end of gentle ripples as I disturbed the glass
And any small disturbance would very softly pass
And sometimes when I sat for long my throat would close and wring
And churn out all the silence and make my sorrow bring
Out all the days of nothing and all the nights awake
When waiting in this forest would make this body ache
And then amidst the madness of my empty silent night
When nothing was the victor and my loneliness was right
You pushed me from the tree bark and you sat there, looking on
And talking of the days and nights after your life had gone
And there you were and there I was and there was every day
And there we were both listening with so much more to say
About all this ridiculous and frantic kind of sun
To check it all for errors and to tear up what we’d done.
And until now I haven’t known the start of what I’ve made,
Or where you found the feelings that you carelessly conveyed
Or how you came so quickly from within the darkest night
And how you carried on your back your broken love, in spite
Of crippled limbs and blinded eyes and shattered hopes and dreams
And sweet attire now hanging from your body, torn at seams,
And your own private darkness which no other man could see
Brought you, a burning jewel, in your poverty, to me.
And in return I give you every moment of my days
And in return I thank you for the errors in your ways
Which made you stand beside me, hold me tightly in your hand
And made you kiss my body with the way you understand
I cannot write my sunshine for it stretches far above
The paper and the words about the meaning of this love
I cannot give you anything which acts as any clue
About the measure of the feeling that I have for you.
So here I stop and go and try to feel it all once more,
That maybe one day I can pick myself up from the floor
And dust away the splintered shock of feelings that concuss
And tell you what you’ve done to me and all there is for us.
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