He lay checking out his phone,
The piano that slowly plays away,
Soon the night that draws near,
At last closes his eyes to see,
The memories he had once in fear,
His heart soon found comfort at bay,
Now knew the way to bond never lone.

He gazed at the way time had spelt,
The pictures that colour themselves,
Where those pixels subtly glitter,
For minutes to spell the hours lost,
In him, his heart to a happiness litter
Once slowly to the grey it delves,
His again the silence of life he dealt.

He breathes in woe for long past since,
And months for it were as years to pass,
Long for more and wonder times had,
Just as he sighs, the light dims,
For worse nor the darker a formed triad,
Abrupt was his heart to whisper a farce,
That he was walking through to this.

How silent he sighs that beckons a hand,
How still the night that breathes a chill,
Now fares a silent act that sways the stone,
To crack the glass that shuns the day,
Where he can walk as slow to do his broken bone,
He waits for weeks for his friend from hill return,
She’s soon by his side, she’s coming to land.

I would jump into the picture and live,
Can never wander through months without,
Soon to move; soon to be; soon to leave,
The last way to spend a day and the stars,
That they shall soon anew a memory weave,
To call upon his emotion of great bout:
Still and absolute emotion he shares with.

Counterpoint, Life, Mysterious, Nocturnal, Poetry, Works
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