I’ll never forget that night...
at the castle, by the sea...
Where the most handsome prince first came to meet me
The night he took me so tightly by the hand...
...I think that was the night he took my heart
For a while, he and I ran the show; ebony clad amidst a kaleidoscope
of suits and skulls and dresses and bows
Dancers on stilts...and so many drummers, and dreamers...
Asynchronous with the neon and noise all around
we finally pressed our way out of the crowded, colorful dark
He whispered “what’s meant to be will find its own way...”
and we plucked out a quiet duet on that old grand piano we found
Baby....can you remember back to that night....at the castle, by the sea?
Now it.......now you.....feel so very far away from me
We’re kingdoms apart, from where I gave you my heart
now you’ve run so far away....
I may not get it back
Further down the page is the original poem, but I've gone ahead and re-pasted it below the link to this video.
There is a place
I go to grieve
But it’s not in this world
so I can’t take you with me
And when I leave
I find myself
in the middle
of a garden
Teeming with sad silly little hopes
The sagging gate left slightly open
Shoddy ‘welcome’ sign has rotted
Cracked concrete benches garbed in lichen
Algae seizing up the fountain
Save for a foreboding canopy of trees
All that grows here are thorns and weeds
They’re sprawling up over everything
But somehow this place isn’t all that depressing
I suppose what makes it so charming
Is the fact that the silence says more than anything
I can’t figure out if it’s just hiding something
Or if it’s a warning
Or if it’s merely a dream
Dirt is forced up underneath my nails
As I scrape down through the layers
Having passed the cold and rocky soil
It begins to feel a little warmer
Could something else ever grow here...
or are those bright days over?
Despite the dark, parched, deep denial
The garden, my soul, longs for revival.....
There is a place
I go to think
But it’s outside of this world
and you can’t follow me....
I’m trying to access a place
That no one else can find
Trying to return to a familiar place
No one can find my way
I’m trying to attain a height so high.....
that the only one who can fall.....
© 2010 by Stef L Schultz
Author: Stef L Schultz
When something isn't "enough" to be a song, and doesn't have a tune but it's still catchy, I call it POETRY, and it goes HERE. And there is not a *THING* you can do to stop me.