The digits, that reached you
Behind a strip of red
Hiding, just as you
Lifeless.
The end, unwritten,
In one last cold breath.

Perhaps, your greatest trick
Was convincing me
That you never existed at all?

I remember
Alone in an alien town, with you
Drenched in one another’s tones
Your eyes, filled with affection
Mine overflowing with longing
A breakfast we will never forget
An evening we can’t help but remember

Each musician plays their instrument
with fellow prodigies, one can bet;

when the "gig" does finally, get underway
he's not focusing on the music in each set.

What this minstrel quietly contemplates
isn't the forty-five minutes he's, played;

what really stands out in his "first mind"
is what's owed to him, after the music's been made.

You see, out of each, and every hour
fifteen minutes are his own,

FAMOUS BOYISH SMILE
©Cyrus Dali Vesuvala

Did you ever think just what you cost her?
Or, were you only having your fun?
Now you know that you’d already lost her
When you thought you’d just begun...

You wooed her with your innocence,
You wooed her with your style,
You wooed her with the freshness of
Your famous boyish smile-
You stripped her of her self-respect,
You stripped her of her shame
And, to strip her of her everything's
The essence of your game…

There's something that is a really changing
and that, can also heal a broken heart,

some days, it's a moving tediously slow
other days, it'll tell you, you can't start.

Seems like folks are always running out of it
and, there's even an iced cold, Miller one,

it folds, and melds into some sort, of a kind of a table
yet, had to create different zones so we could get things done.

It's only but an increment of measure
but claims, all along to be on your side;