Two lost souls, like beachcombers
Looking for lost things, love & such
Distant memories of happiness
The feeling of being needed; a touch
Nestled within a Siren’s lullaby
We never could grasp our fate
Shrugging off the daily struggles
Our only choice is to circumnavigate
Transactionally stealing poetry from her diary
Thinking pretty thoughts, my lady crooner
Shedding our shared idealized past
Ravishingly disheveled from another nooner
These things are seldom spoken aloud
Angels sing out; no longer so distant
Breached actions distorting our thoughts
Heartbroken; leaving you feeling resistant
I’m out here worshipping my secular goddess
Looking for quiet now & avoiding unsolicited advice
Passion not always akin to pleasure
Focused to ensure my kisses are nice & precise
Skipping & trying to dodge this oppressive heat
Dreaming I’m far away on the distant shore
A hundred years ago with sand burning my feet
I wish to be scantily clad, sipping a daiquiri & nothing more
I saw her through the glittering sun
Perched high upon the lifeguard stand
Perfectly sculpted under bright sky
Knees weak, tripping in the soft sand
The gulls echoing a distant cry
Dreams of love & what could be
The salt air marinating upon our skin
I’ve lost my heart here upon the sea
Riding the cooler winds back east
Someday my simple dreams will prevail
Spent too many nights frozen & cold
Once again lost, I know he’s on my trail
Speak to me, for I’ll know if you tell the truth
Look at me, so I’ll know we’ll make it through
This soul damaged in these distant years
Wanting to be pure & return back to you
I need to shine down a path for your life
I want to be an example for you as you grow
May you always have shelter to weather a storm
I contain a perfect love you’ll come to know
You don’t know it yet, but you’re going to save me
A lifetime of joy just waiting for us to find
Adventures & endless discoveries ours to share
A new life, released from that which binds
*written many moons ago before the birth of my first child
Cold coffee & a stash of lost dreams
A distant memory of those rail yards
But we weren’t ourselves with honesty
Not the renegades or anything that hard
Images of what we might yet become
Grabbing self-regard before it fades
Destroying their notions of modernism
Returning to polka dotted shirts & dark shades
We all have our morbid skeletons
The vague semblance of a broken soul
But somewhere are the clues to the truth
Somewhere when lightning meets a weary, old skull
The Winter winds keep us bundled
Sending us shivering & reeling
Dreams of a warm drink by the hearth
Caught up in those distant feelings
Our checklists remain unchecked
Hustle, bustle & we’re forever hurried
There must be a moment to calm ourselves
To enjoy coffee in the midst of this flurry
Our old & forgotten worlds reflect
Manifest destiny lost to distant memory
Totems cast to our missing energy
Fleeting virtues laid upon either plea
Our dissipated youth with judgement paid
Never to return; so get out of your own way
Be in this moment, choose positivity
Plan for the future, but be alive today
Two lost souls, like beachcombers
Looking for lost things; love & such
Distant memories of happiness
The feeling of being needed; a touch
Nestled within a Siren’s lullaby
We never could grasp our fate
Shrugging off the daily struggles
Our only choice is to circumnavigate
Unfolding broken dreams
The distant & diluted flow
Our hopeless choices astound
The truth? We still don’t know
But we can never give up
Clinging to the last of our visions
Memories cultivated on dark nights
Leaving us exposed with obvious incisions
How do you translate a morning
When your soul bears undiagnosed pain
Scars from a life well lived
For in the end, disillusioned cannot remain
The love of a bygone era
Doing our best to not die of boredom or neglect
Creating light to lead others from the darkness
Distant theories to remedy our ailments, I suspect
The clouds descend upon us
Stress compounding at this time of year
Getting darker as the days build
Waxing upon the fruition of fear
This world is a bloody hell
A disaster proven before the ink dries
Scorn for a distant foundation
Futility in which all hope slowly dies
The darkness returns
Looking for a story to wryly begin
Miscommunications falter
& I wade through my vermouth & gin
Image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay
Captain Q 