I Wish That Time was Now
Close the lid, my Face Book friends, and give the laptop rest,
Let us be as once we were, when you and I were guests;
Your home or mine, oh how the wine would flow like repartee,
The night was young and songs were sung,
And we were bold and free.
The perfumes filled the air those nights; and lingered long my gaze;
As wine aromas painted art and set my dreams ablaze;
And you glowed too from flatter fun;
You caught my heart when on the run;
From Cupid and his well aimed dart,
Their silken threads won’t tear apart;
Those heart-kissed strands you wove that night;
I swear those stars were midnight bright.
My eyes across the wine glass rim could never more know peace;
Besotted, oh that I might die to be the lamb you fleece;
Then you shall wear the coat of love you weave with mystic spell,
Oh, you know the poetry of a heart you read so well.
My heart’s in flight, the wine, the song;
Your heart-shaped face my bliss,
That I might dream of moments when I gently stoop to kiss,
A blushing cheek half turned away, your sweet and lowered brow,
My heart was stopped but would the clock,
I wish that time was now.
The Pied Pipers of Death
Given just their childhood; sweet taste of youth, but nay -
No bitter-sweet, young love to greet the breaking of the day;
The sun set on their morning and their lives were lost mid-flow;
The young men and their mirth and dance that we will never know.
Lament the rafters of the inn will never hear their song,
Those soldier lads were sent away; lament; how sad, how wrong
Mothers gave a promise of a life fulfilled, but nay -
For now there is no grandchild; no bloom of age for they;
For grey haired men of yesterday, of lessons learnt not one,
They cheerful do the Reaper's work and scythe till work is done.
Now unborn children never know the sound of softly tread,
Of father's footsteps on the stair when safely tucked in bed.
Today their youth lies sleeping in their little homes of clay
For men whose lives were over took the young men all away;
Their youthful zeal and innocence was shrouded in a lie,
And that's the reason why, sir, only young men go to die.