JEFF NESVIG

Colors of the night

Quite walks thru passages of time

as the holy one whispers the names written on the wall

and the voices of angels sing as he touches the cold stone

of ages inside the marbled hall.

 

Subway trains and flashing lights  are the colors of the night

While street signs painted in shades of Destiny

Hang silently beneath my sight

 

All things for sale are surely given away

While I walk thru passages of time,

Surrender all your pennies for a life you cannot buy,

As the reflection in the wishing well smiles and waves good-bye.

 

another train slowly passes by.

 

And the passengers in the windows stare into my eyes

While the conductor whispers his lonely cry

then fades into the colors of the night.


I wish I could fly

you say you love me

but I'm always so far away

if I could I would give you the sun and moon

but I wish I could fly.

 

the world turns and time goes by so fast

God I wish I could fly

I'd show you the things that I dream

and the places that we've been

because your always here with me.

 

it's cool outside and the summer has turned to fall

and I could tell you easily just how much you mean to me

but I wish I could fly

I'd show you all the things inside of me and the most special thing is you

God I wish I could fly.



The Archer

even thru this as I see it the day

comes heart ache and happiness

and the idea that one is right

while the arrow finds its way.

 

straight thru the heart while days stand still

wild horses run into the night

but still the blind see what they will

with blackened visions sealed with touch, scent and sound

a hand full is taken and thrown to the ground.

 

better they stand than hide and accept what has been given

things that have been stolen from their sight

for treasures and dreams the thoughts of many bleed

and leave memories on forests floors beneath gold and amber leafs.

 

the tranquil pain of crying eyes falls one tear at a time

with no direction to find its path no one will remember

the archer or how the aero found its way

into a thought so blind in a place so far away.



Jeff Nesvig is a writer living in San Diego, California.


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