The Rose

As delicate as a dusky rose,
Her scent was just as sweet.
Her laugh as bright as the day
Golden hair shimmered like the sun.

I watched from afar
A schoolboy caught
And thrown into orbit
Around her star.

I longed to reach out
To touch the petals
Of that rarest rose
To savour every silken inch.

But I was young
And fear gripped me,
Stayed my hand
And held me back.

If I were to try and hold this flower
Would she resist my touch?
Burn me with the shame
Of rejection?

Would her thorns pierce my flesh?
A mechanism for her protection?
Or would she turn her face to me,
As a flower does the sun?

The answers to these questions,
I will never know.
For every flower in nature
Must bloom and prosper and grow.

And so my dusky rose
Turned her face to the sun
And I watched,
Numb with love and fear
Knowing I was not
The one she chose.

Time though,
Is the greatest healer
And has given me others
To hold close

But in those quiet moments
When I sit alone and reflect
I think about my childhood crush
And my delicate dusky rose.

Beggars Would Ride

If I could tell you
the things I wanted to say,
I would tell you that
I think you’re beautiful.

I would let you know
how much I wanted
to feel your skin
against mine.

I would explain
how much I feel alive
in your company
how you make me smile

If I could
do all of those things
I wouldn’t need to write
them down

and hope
that someday
you’ll read these words
and understand.

Marionette

Tugged by heartstrings
twirled around her slender fingers.

His heart is made to dance
to her siren song.

Drawn by her promise
of regard and warm affection
ensnared by the cool touch
of bewitching fingers

He remains,
bound by a connection
that bids him to motion;
the dance of the marionette.

A twisted puppet of devotion,
a tool to boost her shallow ego.
A servant starved of need;
tossed scraps of sweet emotion

A subtle smile and stolen glance
keep him spiralling in the dance,
and at her whim his strings are cut
He lies forgotten; trampled underfoot

You could, if you wanted to…

You could de-construct my pieces,
find your way inside.
Tap at the stone
that replaced my heart;
hope to hear an echo.

You could climb into the abysm
that used to house my soul.
Close your eyes in its darkness
find a memory of before.

You could creep into my mind;
find the joy that someone stole.
You could.
I wish you would.

But you won’t.