BROKEN SUNSET, GNARLED OLD TREE

BROKEN SUNSET, GNARLED OLD TREE

Sitting with you in my private corner of this very public park,
Somber and reflective and waiting on the dark.

We are sheltered by this gnarled old tree,
The irony is not lost on me.

For mine is a gnarled old soul, gobbled up and swallowed whole.

I wait for night to gently fall
And lick my wounds with its gentle tongue.

After the day has come screeching to a close
And its melancholy songs have all been sung.

Cool winds blow, sailors come ashore
And prowl the streets ‘til morning comes
In search of love or something more.

And I am searching for something, too.
My sunset has shattered, broken and blue.

Time swings like a pendulum, back and forth before my eyes.
Life dissipates, evaporates, how rapidly time flies.

And you’re my consolation, my precious valentine,
So stay with me forever, now and ‘til the end of time.

Bring back the sacred memories of who I used to be,
Underneath the broken sunset and this precious, gnarled old tree.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED