Untitled

by

Jude Eydmann

Sad dreams on Good Days
Scotch Mists and Blue haze
Recloak the things that render numb
The man who beats the crying drum.

Tired eyes in early years
Fighting back the bitter tears
Release the mode of passion, then
The sobbing drum can't beat again.

Cold hands in early dawn.
Feel no rays of sunrise born.
Reclaim the hand that once held yours
(At least the weeping drum may pause)

Broken wing in Condors flight.
Flutter down into the night.
Return to earth like fallen stone
And drums shall beat for you alone.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at The Morrow was Kind
by: Joyce Hemsley
from: Sunderland, England, UK

To visit all of Jude Eydmann's poems, click HERE

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