Bend

Their riveted innocence on clanking cobblestones
The smiling women with deep brown eyes
The bayside path at the eve of dusk
Lets walk hand in hand and entrust

Phrase by phrase the voice lies
A treat as the bourgoise smile
Uncouth jugglers play with fire
Circus folk cry in the summertime
What is meant to be?

The sunbeam through glass?
Only shivering under the drying leaves
Placid urns of distrust?
That burst into gallows of deceit
Siezure and proclivity of tears?
That levy the fund of demise
I was watching as the night slipped by
Bent by confusion
Burnt my ire

I looked at her copper locks that day
And the moonshine gleam in her eyes
She laughed and played and joyously cried
My words inept, my thoughts ary

It was meant to be.