LCK
Acrobat
Grey Day
Do not despair, grey day, for I rejoice in you,
Do not wish upon yourself the sun's hot glare,
Nor the winter's cold glint,
For you alone are soft, muted,
Your very bleakness inspires
The melancholia of poets and lyricists,
Your forlorn sky the perfect backdrop
For autumnal branches stark and bare.
There is a nostalgia in your air,
Bespeaking times of seasons gone before,
And in this melancholia, this mist laden nostalgia,
We turn to the quiet comforts of hearth and home,
To lazy dogs, sleeping sentinels,
Heavy lidded cats settling onto armchairs,
The warm crackle of a fireplace,
Air pungent with baking apples, a hearty soup,
Children dressed in woolens setting
Studiously about their schoolwork,
Fragrant tea, steaming cocoa, warm embraces,
The gentle patter of rain as twilight falls,
Parlour games brought out, more fragrant tea,
And laps are a cuddly place where stories come alive.
As the softly muted grey day draws to a close,
Prayers are heard, children tucked snug and kissed,
I turn to catch the days final moments,
Alone now, staring quietly beyond the window panes,
Strangely caught between the warm comforts
Of this soft, soft day and the melancholia,The bleakness,
That permeates my heart.
I sigh and rest my cheek against the window's cool panes,
A lone tear falls, I do not brush it away.
This is where I remember you,
My one true romantic love, my soulmate,
All that we could have shared, all that we could have been,
Had we not made foolish, human decisions
And fallen off to pride and circumstance.
I cannot risk more than a single tear,
A moment's fleeting sorrow,
For if I dwell on bittersweet memories, my heart will shatter.
Yet I treasure you in my heart, always will,
Wistfully locked away, except for the grey soft days
When my heart can no longer contain you.
Laurie
Do not despair, grey day, for I rejoice in you,
Do not wish upon yourself the sun's hot glare,
Nor the winter's cold glint,
For you alone are soft, muted,
Your very bleakness inspires
The melancholia of poets and lyricists,
Your forlorn sky the perfect backdrop
For autumnal branches stark and bare.
There is a nostalgia in your air,
Bespeaking times of seasons gone before,
And in this melancholia, this mist laden nostalgia,
We turn to the quiet comforts of hearth and home,
To lazy dogs, sleeping sentinels,
Heavy lidded cats settling onto armchairs,
The warm crackle of a fireplace,
Air pungent with baking apples, a hearty soup,
Children dressed in woolens setting
Studiously about their schoolwork,
Fragrant tea, steaming cocoa, warm embraces,
The gentle patter of rain as twilight falls,
Parlour games brought out, more fragrant tea,
And laps are a cuddly place where stories come alive.
As the softly muted grey day draws to a close,
Prayers are heard, children tucked snug and kissed,
I turn to catch the days final moments,
Alone now, staring quietly beyond the window panes,
Strangely caught between the warm comforts
Of this soft, soft day and the melancholia,The bleakness,
That permeates my heart.
I sigh and rest my cheek against the window's cool panes,
A lone tear falls, I do not brush it away.
This is where I remember you,
My one true romantic love, my soulmate,
All that we could have shared, all that we could have been,
Had we not made foolish, human decisions
And fallen off to pride and circumstance.
I cannot risk more than a single tear,
A moment's fleeting sorrow,
For if I dwell on bittersweet memories, my heart will shatter.
Yet I treasure you in my heart, always will,
Wistfully locked away, except for the grey soft days
When my heart can no longer contain you.
Laurie
