First rights: Laura G
date posted: 14/9/04
*************************
Who would have thought,
That all the pain, that all the hate,
I never realised,
Untill it was too late,
That all the sorrow, all the tears,
Anger and cruel cold hatred,
The shadow of our deepest fears,
Horror and we cannot cope,
Struggles and guilt,
Loss and the end of hope,
A flower begun to wilt,
Yes who'd have thought,
The nightmare, the screaming face,
All of that would fit,
Into such a tiny space

 

When
First rights: Laura G
Copyright: Laura G
Posted:26/10/04
****************

When all you have are memories,
When the good times have passed away,
And left you cold and sad and lonely,
Wondering what happiness could be.

When you have nothing left but dreams,
Dying slowly in your mind,
Hold them tight so they don’t fade,
A candle flame that flickers low.

When all your dreams are disappearing,
Use your hope to build them wings,
Light woven and frail as a dying sigh,
Inconstant patterns of struggling hope.

When there is nothing left to live for,
Cast your dreams into the darkness and,
With the new found freedom of delicate, brilliant wings,
Stand and watch them fly.

 

 Title: The Visitor

first rights and © Laura Garnham
Posted: 11/12/04
***************************
I had never seen him before,
And I know soon I'll never see him more,
His back against the blizzard bent,
In the swirling snow shadows came and went,
He had come to stay a while,
To see his love and make her smile.

He tried the catch and found it locked,
So on the gate he knocked and knocked,
Yet even though he made a noisy din,
She didn't come to let him in,
Then to the empty window,
The sill now piled with snow,
He turned and called her name,
But I know she never came.

Still the window remained barred,
Against the glass dead branches jarred,
The only sound in that silent house,
No other occupants except the mouse,
He must have thought oh, for sure,
She would soon open up the door.

He climbed the fence and walked the path,
The robins in the hedges seemed to laugh,
For he was the only person for many a day,
To have travelled along that way.
He tried the door, it opened wide,
To revel the hollowness left inside,
Where once precious memories are just,
Now only cobwebs , silence and dust.

He looked again towards the window,
To the spaces left in shadow,
And there across the shattered glass,
He thought perhaps he saw her pass,
A silent figure dressed in white,
Coldly heralding in the night,
He had imagined it he feared,
So she rapidly disappeared.

He went walking back down the path,
This time the robin did not laugh,
Convinced he saw her standing there,
But go back, he would not dare,
The door behind him gently shut,
He thought perhaps it was the wind but.

He heard the door lock with a click,
And turned around oh so quick,
But there was nothing left to see,
She was not the garden but he,
Can not leave this peculiar house,
I think it's only occupant is the mouse.

So still I know he does stay,
Here in the snow by the day after day,
Hope keeps him here still,
I think that he will wait until,
He can join her in that house,
Along with its only occupant the mouse.

Ever since on the gate he rapped,
He was destined to be trapped,
He is convinced there more to the house than mice,
And I think his life will pay the price,
He cannot leave the garden gate,
It's not his fault he was too late.