Tuesday, 27 March 2012

Shades Of Lives by Bobby Stevenson

A Life Half Lived

Always bending for every wind that blows my way,
Arching to the north, swirling to the south,
Never able to stand in my own true place,
Some see it as a weakness,
Contemptuous, even,
But I know the truth,
It’s because I’m broken inside,
And when they bury me,
It’ll be a stranger they mourn.


Footprints On A Carpet


Even if it’s only footprints on a carpet
Or blades of grass crushed where I once sat
Or a muddy scar upon a garage wall
Where my hand had leant upon
Or a thumb print on a pane of glass
On that day we talked and talked
Or a smile that made your face light up
When you thought of what I said
Or a note left out to tell you news
Now crushed and thrown away
Or a space that I once stood upon
Now emptier in the absence
Even for just one of those
That I’m remembered by
Then I’ll be satisfied in years,
That once,
Just once,
That
I
Was
Here. 

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