When I am old and the sun is setting on my time

The story untold shall slowly unfold,

Of times past and dyes cast

Of bridges crossed and others burnt.

I shall tell the tale while sitting upon the hill

As the sun fades and the sky grows stale,

I shall look into your eyes if for the first time

And tell of my prime when all was fine wine.

I shall tell of love and hate, the inescapable fate

Of solitude and pain that you cannot explain,

And I’ll shed a tear if for the first time

As I let you feel what lay in my mind.

The wind will blow as I tell my story

And the moon will glow in all its glory,

I shall light a fire to keep you warm

Because my story is a raging storm.

By hope I shall bring you clarity

Or you’ll think me an old man nearing insanity,

Be that as it may, promise me you will stay

That you’ll listen to my story and feed my vanity.


-Brian Koome-

follow at www.briankoome.wordpress.com