Before I close my eyes ... Before I drift away ...
      fallow as the evanescent tide grows low;
      before the falling sun echoes
      upon shown waves of estranged sandbars

Before I draw this life’s ending breath ...
      as beclouding skies ache like a windswept shoreline
      kissed by a bitter sweet gale of love and misery
      beget a chilling spell cast of invisible winds of change

Before you no longer remember ...
      the way the song a gentle wind's caress
      swirls and sweeps away bare feet
      set free to soar beyond the reach of your eyes
      
Before these eyes see the final sunset tiptoe down the sky ...
      even the sun feels the dimming in its wake ;
      unrequited footprints in the sand course straightaway,
      never turning around to look back whence they came

Before another tide floods a deserted oceanside ...
      erasing the traces of where we danced naked as the dark
      glimpsing the diminishing horizon ― 

                              and I let go .........
      as the tears steal away the last glint of the sea

           The way you took your love from me ...



                 © harlon rivers ... May15th, 2017

do we have thought and care for the future here?



we do, though we never know how long we have.



now look away, this is a warning, content may upset.



i had a cat named prudence, she had some kittens. mum

drowned those in a bucket, and i saw. she put a lid on top,

with stones. i have a                       bucket just the same for

boiling clothes. never used.         i have a washing machine.



prudence died,                rumours of poisoning, who knows?



now look away.



one saved kitty george was mine, i loved him. he died sudden.



rumours abound.



things were different then.



sbm.

The desert was hot,
The boys feet ached,
His legs protested,
The sweat stung his eyes.

The young man stumbled,
The heat waves of the road throwing up a curious pattern.

It was then that the young man spotted it,
Just beyond the next hill.

He stood up,
Wiping the sweat from his brow and forged on.

The cedar had become an iron oak.

When he arrived though,
If only in fleeting flashes,
But still it was there,
When the instrument was in the young man's hand,
It calmed the storm that raged behind his eyes.