Sunday, February 13, 2011

an older poem...


(i)
Lying still on Harpur's Hill
a setting sun it warms my face;
& while you're near its all so clear
you're not so out of reach.

(ii)
Later on you have gone
I wonder, did I say too much?
Words I said could have mislead
and are much clearer in a touch.

(chorus)
And if you listen hard
on a summer's night
you can hear the angels weep;
For the things in life
they longed to own
but knew they couldn't keep.

(iii)
The lost souls of a thousand gulls
echo across the beach.
I lie in fear, wish you were near
& not so out of reach.

(chorus)
And if you listen hard
on a summer's night
you can hear the angels weep;
For the things in life
they longed to own
but knew they couldn't keep.

And for the ones in life
they longed to hold
but knew they loved too deep.

-For Alan Whiting.

(c) Brent M Harpur, 1991 / 2011.

"There's a little magic in everything & then some loss to even things out." (Lou Reed)

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