When I was Your Man

Meeting You

She glides through
The party
Smiling with
Her bag
Laughing and travelling
Speaking with ease
She turns around
And you see
Someone who is me

Quiet of the Room

From the quiet of the room
She writes
A little girl in pigtales
With all her might
She is scribbling in her diary
All her dreams
She is missing out all her screams
She is protecting those with
No words
And hiding under the covers
Quite disturbed
And quietly with her pen
She writes
Its all there, as she fights
Some extra horror that she
Knows
Her tears have come to blows
She has written for hours
And no one knows
Just horror stories
That no one sees
Her tear drops as you please
But when she goes to
Hand it on
All she says is
Who cares anyway
No one will respond

The Girl and her Ice cube

The little girl
Near the sun
With its rays
Striking out
Holds in her hand
An icecube
And looks at it
Thinking
It will melt the sun
And you sit there
And look at the little girl
In all her futility
Hope against hope
That that little icecube
Will actually make a difference
To the suns shining rays
Laughing at her
I mean hysterical laughter at her
"Its crazy" you say to her
That won't work at all
It will fry before it even gets there
The sun is so hot, it will just
Turn to steam
"Don't throw it" "You can't really think that will work"
"No way in the world will that work"
And another hysterical laugh bellows from your mouth
Alone the little girl stands in her belief, the taunts she takes
And so reaching back
She throws it
And it lands near your feet
And seeing it you realise
What the little girl is saying

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Ice creams are only for Angels

Wandering, through the shopping center
She picks a little flower from the
Garden floor
She wanders up to the stall owner
Near his clown trailer, to play
"Win a prize, Win a prize" he says
"Win a prize, win a prize" he says

And you watch, from a distance
In a dream, not really paying much attention
Studying the flower in her hand
You turn your back, if for an instant
And you notice the clown, once
Content, now his face is a tear

Watching the little girl
You have seen her drop the flower
Play with the bottom of her skirt
Twirl and dance away
Lost in her vision,
As she plays and plays

Watching the clowns as they spin
Back and forth, their face stuck
In an internal rhythm
Back and forth
Back and forth

And as you watch her
Twirl, Where are her friends?
She is alone
And in a blink of an eye, your downward gaze
She is gone; the clown sad and lost

And there she is
Screaming, blonde, crying
Tears streaming down her face
Her mother
Crying.

"Where is my daughter"
"where is my daughter"

The clown disappeared, and all you can describe
Is the face, and his tear
And the van
But the precise moment, your
Downward gaze, moved
You were a stranger, watching a girl, dance

And you wander away
Not knowing what to do
For really you can only describe
The simple scene
And remember this
As, Icecreams are only for Angels