Another Tale of Woe

 

the smell of her perfume, it still lingers
 
an unpleasant fragrance that reminds  
 
of a multitude of memories...invading  
 
the senses with their stench of the past  
 
I look up in the technicolor sky, blinking  
 
my curious eyes, as eagles swoop down  
 
their plumage of black-n-white...beautiful  
 
yet I am frightened by the spectres beyond  
 
their marble stare...it shoots arrows into me  
 
  
so flow on waters, from those ivory towers  
 
erupting from turrets like a torrential downpour  
 
of silver streams, teeming with salmon swimming  
 
avoiding bears claws from scoop them up  
 
swim on, glistening rubies to lay your eggs  
 
as another cycle is born...I gaze at picture books  
 
with calloused fingers I turn the delicate pages  
 
silky as rose petals falling upon the grave  
 
 
I hear the moaning of the ghosts from behind  
 
as the train pulls into the terminal... I clutch  
 
a copy of Plato's New Republic in my hands  
 
I'm not shaken by these spectres,  
 
No, they are my friends, reflections of the past  
 
that scream at me, as I read philosophy  
 
and am threatened by the prospect of wars  
   
coming to an end..  
 
 
as I flip through the pages, you are sitting  
 
next to me, my soulmate from across the pond  
 
but I do not speak, and as I reach my destination  
 
I ignore, my copy of Plato's New Republic  
 
lying by your feet, on the sticky floor...  
 
Motionless you stay, as I look away  
 
ghosts of the past bellow from the dining car  
 
 
To kiss your cheek, and say good bye...  
 
But alas you are just eyes without a face.  
 
and I am the one that you despise, No hate...