The Vine

 

When two lonely hearts start to beat as one,

it's a sure sign that love has begun.

You know that your new love is going to be fine,

I can tell her heart beat is in rhythm with mine.

 

You feel invincible, like when you were young,

ridin' your Harley and wheelin' your gun.

Being with you redefines the word fun,

warm all over, like that noon day sun.

 

Through life's disappointments, we'll walk hand in hand,

here on this mountain we'll both burn our brand.

When others say no, we'll both say we can,

if you can be strong, and stand by this man.

 

I know other men have given you roses an candy,

but what I have to give just might come in handy.

A sense of self worth, how to be the best you can be.

I'll be your shining path, when you're unable to see.

 

Now how could it get any better than that,

well, maybe two kids, a dog and a cat.

Your new Hoover, my old  cowboy hat,

a front porch swing for our evening chat.

 

Our first year together flew by so fast,

the good times we had, sure were a blast.

I took it for granted that our love would last,

now I find myself just living in the past.

 

When two hearts start to look through four different eyes,

they sometimes can't see through true love's disguise.

I guess it all started out, as little black lies,

and like an old rope, it slowly loosens it's ties.

 

I tried so hard to tell you, how you made me feel,

but you just laughed and said, it's really no big deal.

One day you had broken love's sacred seal,

I had no idea what that would reveal.

 

Necessary word, that were left unspoken,

lead to vows that were easily broken.

Angry words that were loudly spoken,

 where once was love, lies only a token.

 

"I don't want to hear it", was all that you said,

with caged up thoughts, still trapped in my head.

What I thought was so real, was a kid's game instead,

and now two lonely hearts, sleep in two separate beds.

 

You said I was just being unfair,

I said forget it, I really don't care.

Now all of that's neither here or there,

the damage is done, far beyond all repair.

 

What once was ours, is now yours or mine,

we still don't talk, it seems such a crime.

Something meant to last, the true test of time,

without proper care, just dies on The Vine.

 

The Rebel Poet

 

Home Alone

 









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