Help Her

I know a girl,
admirable is she.
She’s the one for me,
yet she doesn’t know,
how much I can see.
I can see it in her eyes,
the lies,
she conceals.
Not of deceit,
distrust,
or hurt.
Yet for protection,
to prevent others,
gaining her burden,
that she doth carry,
upon her shoulders,
a burden,
sure to see.
So I must stand here,
hope I can aide her,
hope I can support her,
help her.

A Rose’s Thorn

I could write a cliché,
about a bouquet of roses,
what more can I say,
they tickle our noses.

Sure; many a cliché,
yet there’s one that’s true,
a rose has a thorn for the day,
the thorn is I; the rose, you.

So, my dear, when her
red, red petals shine,
in the light’s shimmer,
I’ll rest knowing you’re mine.

For love could be shown in a rose,
with the thorns, problems arise,
but with everything that goes,
I’ll just remember your eyes.

Trust Your Weapon

Trust your weapon,
whatever it may be,
a rifle,
rounds flying everywhere.
A sword,
cutting through the flesh.
A bow,
arrows in the quiver.

Perhaps,
it’s words,
scrawled upon the page,
scrawled across the age.
Words, they have power,
they can hold the hour,
they can capture,
your soul.

The Violins

The violins, resounding in the air,
resounding, not a single care,
echoing around the night,
caressing your ears not sight.

As the bows draw along the strings,
the notes echo above the bell rings,
snaking through the air’s soft tones,
snaking through the air’s soft drones.

alleviating all my pain, lost today,
gathering it all, throwing it away,
making me feel, not a care in the world,
emotions within me, mixed and swirled.