toprincecharles

• Share

Wednesday, 17 December 2008 at 03:08

17 December 2008, ~1am

The night is cold
nd the chill numbs
I stare out the window
at the park where we once sat

Pretence?
Or folly?
Or neither,
or so much more...

The wind ceases
and I wonder
Does time stop now?

And then it teases
and I ponder
What does tomorrow hold?

In the orange glow of a streetlamp
I long
for a heart
that beats with mine...

A friend comes up
alongside and
looks out with me

He shares of his mum's passing
of strength and
of God

And of the simple
yet complex
beauty of trees

Beauty quietly majestic
in the stoic oppression of
a military camp...

A silence of understanding
of reflection
of a heart
going out to another...

I feel slightly warmer
but still something
or nothing
chills...

Offence is indeed
the cause of war
And war
war never changes

I question why?
And I sigh...

The night is cold
and the chill numbs
and I still long
for a heart that

beats so

with mine.