Winds blow from yonder skies, that so memories can’t hold,
yet what were they to be? If remember’d, those purposely lost,
embraceth my face raised to the heavens,
asketh me what I desire?
Eyes close, head sinks in utter dismay,
Shoulds’t judg’d a man be for love possess’d?
Nay, nay, tis winds do lie, as these lands always do,
yet say, not I, for I lovest thou as friend and woman.


Breeze kiss’d my neck with phrases dance in mind,
Phrases held, forgotten, replaced yet possess’d,
For all are mine, written and erased,
Yet formd a tale that gives birth to a gift,
For one as thee to smile, even just a bit, milady.
Greeted by sprites of nocturnes imagin’d,
Whisperers from realms for one yet to be written,
Untold and unsung,
Yet to happen but such is guaranteed,
Sworn by life, I swear an oath,
Friend to be in sickness, in hell and despair,
Thy friend am I in thy heavens, success and smiles,
A soul once claimed and claims once more to care,
It is I, phantom, from the dark, to be there.
Then sent was I, to the table and papers,
and pens,
a gift be written to thee, to aid thy heart,
a feeble piece to pull thee from thy depths of sadness.

Now pen dwells within my hands,
Words flood, as doth my heart,
Written for friend as to my dream,
For all my love, all she can redeem,
Pieces be read and pondered,
a tale of journey brought by realms.

© johndavidday