A world of light
of dreams & strange intimacy
where music floats
and voices eventually follow
where pain & sorrow fade into the past
and joy is ever new
may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve
sweetly your song presents
promises
and stays forever in tune
like a prayer
in my mind I hear nothing
but a repeated melody
that is never tiring and
always alive in my dreams
there is an inescapable part of
young love
never lost between inception and death
somehow living on above reality
alone thirty stories high
I endure my lowest hour
mindful all is equal between young lovers
oh cruel world
thank you for delivering unto me
your irony
for without it
I would have given up long ago
I would not give up the world
for anything except you
would not allow myself
to be alienated from your
yesterday or today
would always be near you
wherever you may be
first kiss so true
oh so vivid in our minds
first love at first sight
beauty appears out of nowhere
shuts off the lights and
turns on our lives
anywhere but here
thirty stories tall
how I’d fall off the edge
to be with you right now
originally written circa nineteen eighty-five
rewrite published on ArtiPeeps earlier this year
recital recorded october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
out of the blue melancholy
wrapped her arms around me
and held me close
whispering sad songs
and wiping away the tears
that formed from the
corners of my mind
she slowly swayed me
encouraging me to hush
painted pictures of the
moon and stars with her
deceiving voice
expressing how precious
and lonesome is the night
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Now that the house is empty
I easily awaken from cries
in the dark, sneaking in
through the bedroom window
on a cool, autumn morning.
I roll out of bed at four a.m.
and rush to the window
like a child on Christmas Eve;
eyes focused on the house
across the street, a lone light
leaking through the drawn shade.
Once the child has grown quiet
from his mother’s magical touch,
I crawl back to bed, wondering
where my own children might be
and if they ever think of me
when hearing cries in the dark.
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
walking in i felt a presence
had just left
leaving behind a draft
coming from the return vent
a lone light shone
above the kitchen sink
highlighting the drip
that hadn’t been fixed for days
i thought i might find
a note on the counter
next to sunday’s newspaper
instead found a grocery list
along with a few coupons
the cat sauntered on the tile
and rubbed up against my ankle
sounding off in a bluesy way
somehow knowing
change was here to stay
december, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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