The silhouette in the dark
Rendez-vous at the eleventh hour, Dark and cloudy the half-moonlit night. Sometimes talking; sometimes silent. Ever close; I see you not. We sit, we parler: Our words in the wind. With thoughts of eternity And our troublesome dream. Our lives on hold. We stop to reflect On our great adventure That was never perfect. Yet we are safe in our company: We are brothers in arms. We loved at first sight, And laughed at our find. Two kid-men Playing at ghosts. We felt our future That's never lost. One, two, three hours, four?... Yet no time is lost or counted. For we let go in true friendship And hold on in our souls. By Patrick J Boyle Cowdenbeath 10/10/09