Night turns into day,
Day turns into night.
I feel myself sway,
As I hold onto the light.
The night numbs me,
Frighteningly cold.
The days rush by
As I grow old.
I prefer the day
When the sun shines.
The night can be fey,
Dark streaking the pines.
Night turns into day.
Day turns into night.
Days become gray,
I have no more
strength to fight.
I see him in my mind’s eye.
He is dead, and so am I.
He floats alone in the ocean.
We have taken the dark potion.
He drifts near,
Without fear.
I long to touch his face,
Not of the human race.
My spirit glides free.
And soon so shall he.
Welcome the night
And its good friend, the moon.
Do not take flight
From the man in the moon.
Let the moon take over
From the sun’s bright reign.
Let the sun take cover
Without severe pain.
A thick blanket will fall,
Giving the earth security.
Darkness will cover all
With its fine grace and purity.
For the sun, no need to pine.
Don’t waste precious time mourning.
The stars will twinkle and shine.
The sun will rise come morning.
Ice Fire
Cold.
Icy cold.
My toes feel numb.
My fingers tingle.
The wind howls.
Sleep tempts me.
But I must continue.
A few more steps.
Silence wraps its arms around me.
I raise my face to the sky.
The colors take my breath away.
Source:sj0
As I fade away,
I think of days gone by.
As I crumble to sand,
I remember the past.
As I shrivel to nothing,
I regret what I’ve done.
But most of all,
I regret what I haven’t.
A living and breathing sculpture.
It entices us.
It bemuses us.
It challenges us.
But most of all,
it inspires us.
The trees of the forest shake,
their limbs fearing the next quake.
Their thick trunks glisten in white,
with tears frozen from their plight.
Surrounded on four sides by white,
the bright glare has blinded my sight.
A shadow emerges from the trees.
I hope it is not him, pretty please.
My body moves forward against my will.
I grab a tree trunk and try to hold still.
I dig my feet into the packed snow,
but I must go where the wind will blow.
Source:randomthoughtsforabeautifulgirl
Sing me a love song.
Rhyme me a sad tale.
The woe of heartbroken lovers
whose tinny cries take to the air.
The needle rides the grooves.
Round in a circle, it goes.
No beginning or end,
like a tear refusing to fall.
A song without an end.
The melody echoes through eternity.
One jump and scratch at a time.
A casualty of war.
A casualty of nature.
Sad.
Alone.
Drifting.
Broken.
Silenced forever.
Say a prayer for me.
SUSANNE LEIST 