Broken Floor Boards

Art: Unknown (Information Could Be Helpful)

“You musn’t cry miss,
please don’t cry miss. I’ve saved for you a ration of my bread.”
“Its okay miss, I’ll stay by you miss.”
the words, the young boy said.

“My ma and pa, miss,
said with you, I musn’t speak,
it is war miss, it is war miss,
and you are the ones the uniforms seek.”

“I don’t care miss, I’ll bide my time miss,
I’ll be here for you anyway,
I’ll hide you miss, I’ll hide you,
‘neath the broken floor boards,
a small hollow in my room, miss, for you to safely stay.”

The siren sound,
the siren sound,
echoes through the emptying town.
A sad song, a sad song,
huddling close,
as planes crash down.

Years to pass, years to pass.
“Ma and pa, are gone.
Seems endless miss, seems endless miss,
the guns and suits still carry on.”

“I don’t care miss, I’ll bide my time miss,
I’ll be here for you anyway,
I’ll hide you miss, I’ll love you miss,
‘neath the broken floor boards,
a small hollow in my room,
if it need be miss, if it need be miss,
‘til my dying day.”

“The gunfire has ceased miss,
please take my hand miss,
hold it ‘til time for us comes to an end.
I’ll be here for you miss,
I’ll be here for you miss,
you are my love,
you are my friend.

Years to pass, years to pass,
calmer winds blowing through,
remembering, remembering.
when skies were darkened, destructive reign,
now clear, the days’ view.

“Hold my hand miss,
hold my hand miss, I’ll love you ‘til time’s end
She whispers, she whispers, “I’ve saved for you a ration, of sweet bread,
just for you my love, just for you, my friend.”

The Courtship of a Lady

He peers out the window across the valley,
as she gracefully steps toward the pond shaded beneath her umbrella from mid-day sun.
A man meets with her acquaintance, attempting a courtship,
more to follow before the day is done.

He deligently writes, ink splatters and crumpled papers,
he paces, hesitations in the manners to which he should profess such deep emotions.
“I would lay down my sword for you my lady”
but I must not write this, for I am no coward in of these devotions.

“I will raise that sword yet again for you my lady, in battle,
for you I’d fight until the death.”
but I must not write this for she may regard me as a savage,
a heartless fool in the words’ breath.

Time moves forward in the passing of the suns, the moons,
until the next time he sees the light of her eyes,
a rugged man of high stature, walking along her side,
he knows what this means, his heart cries.

He deligently writes, ink splatters, and crumpled papers,
he paces, hesitations in the manners to which he should profess what he has held in his heart so long.
“Nothing, no one in this world could ever change a thing my lady, my love.”
but I must not write this, for I am a man, I must be strong.

“I would place a kiss upon the softness of your hand, hold it forever my lady,
though all I could give would be of my heart alone.”
but I must not write this, for another’s heart you already own.

The next time he saw her,
sadness played upon her face,
beside her the rugged man tugging her about,
she walked silently, her eyes falling down, following the course of her place.

He diligently writes, ink splatters, and crumpled papers,
he paces, no hesitations in the manners to which he should profess such deep emotions.
“I would lay down my sword for you my lady,
though I am no coward in these devotions,
I will raise that sword yet again for you my lady, in battle,
for you I’d fight until the death,
do not regard this a savagery,
as I’ll love you until my very last breath.”

He peers out across the valley,
meeting with her in the mid-day sun,
he hands to her his letter, attempting his courtship,
his battle, professing his love, his heart has won.

Like Photographs From the Past

Black and white,
caught in between contrast.
She stepped ahead into the white brush of leaves,
growth from the blackened soil.
Like photographs of the past.

A wisp of color as she moved ahead,
the softness of a pink rose, reaching to touch,
upon the thorns she bled.

A tear fell,
in the sharpness of this beauty,
as she grasped it with her hands,
as she looked around at her world void of color,
upon strange illuminated lands.

Another tear fell,
a splash of blue upon a leaf below,
she kneeled down to pick it up,
green started to grow.

She walked further ahead,
the flower held gently against her breast.
Her heart warmed in this precious discovery,
her spirit in search of more,
to calm her quest.

Soft yellow began to emerge in her surroundings,
an unusual joyful glow,
Blue rain began falling, from a blue sky,
and her heart followed a cascading rainbow.

These strange lands,
began to dance in orange sunset and purple clouds stretching far,
though a sharp awakening, needed to feel,
through her eyes, into her soul, she held love,
transcending into, forever looked upon in beauty,
a softly glowing star.

The Seedling, the Medallion, and the Thorn

He was but a young man, in need of much knowledge,
when he met upon her face, pouring out so much warmth,
her gown glowing, flowing white, dancing around her,
as if in song, fluttering as butterflies grace upon the meadows,
quietly, so quietly,
she whispered,
“You must take these three things with you upon your travels”
She handed him, a simple seedling, a shining gold medallion,,
and a thorn from the vines of a rose.
He asked, confused, “What could these be for?”
She whispered into his soul, “Your heart already knows.”
Her essence and beauty disappeared into the winds,
as they swirled leaves upon the breeze.
He folded the items carefully inside a kerchief
and placed them in his pocket.
The significance of these curious items, he was about to find.
He continued to reach a part of the earth,
with the air difficult to take in,
trees withering, brown dead grass, and in the middle of its depths,
the sounds of crying,
a mother holding her child.
“He has not the air to breathe.”
He silently removed his kerchief from his pocket,
and took the seedling out in his hands,
without hesitation, he planted them into the earth, as he kneeled beside them.
Her tears dampened the ground,
and quickly a plant emerged, sprouting leaves.
The heavy air surrounding them cleared,
a gasp of breath brought forth the young boy, renewing his life.
He continued on his travels,
coming to a village, rejoicing in festivities,
a woman adorned in clothing, of such a lady of the night.
She attempted to stir him in emotions, in lieu of trade,
she discovered the kerchief within his pocket.
His lonely heart, perhaps yearning, but not weak.
He turned her away, and continued.
Passing years, living the simple man’s life,
growing in much more knowledge.
He came upon his trousers, without hesitation, reached inside the pocket,
he found the gold medallion,
it had glistened brightly like the sun,
glowing as brightly as the flowing white that danced around her,
he remembered,
then remembered the thorn, and reached inside to grasp.
sharp as blood trickled. Quiet, so quiet.
He once again saw her face, such warmth.
She whispered into his soul, “Your heart already knows.”
Suddenly he was sitting upon the stool, realizing he had pricked his finger upon the needle,
his reality as a tailor, he took much care in the creations paying special attention, his fabric of love.
She placed a kiss upon his lips, the dress he had made for her, glowing, flowing white danced around her.
Outside his window, a young boy playing in the streets, healthy with his friends,
the breath of life, a tree, standing reaching into the clouds, surrounded in beauty of the earth.
He smiled upon her, as the medallion cascaded from her neck, gently touching upon her chest, close to her heart.
She placed her hand upon it, smiled upon him, and whispered “I love you” into his soul.