The Eternal Play

When the curtain will rise remains unknown.
But there is so much to say…

The script is a masterpiece composed in youth;
Passion and color revealing the truth.
The written words sing of the ways of life —
harmonies of joy,
dirges of sorrow.
Now, on with the show.

The stage is set from long, long ago;
The actors, they come and they go.
The props sometimes fail turning
drama to laughter,
comedy to tragedy;
Still, on with the show.

The actors emote the most they dare,
The inner desires they need to share.
The spoken words not always true to the script;
sighs of love,
cries of fear.
But, on with the show.

Yet, the unspoken words tell so much more
Of the dreams they're afraid to reach out for.
Memories replayed in the mind and the soul;
no one will say,
nobody can know.
And on with the show.

The time of the final curtain remains unknown.
But there is so much to say.

— Joyce E. Lampe Byrd

The Dream

The door closes as the last guest finally departs.
We sigh at each other and drag our exhausted bodys
To the bedroom where we collapse across the bed.
Too tired to sleep, you wearily gaze at me;
Totally relaxed in the comfort of each other.
Your smile is infectious and warms my heart.
I run my fingers through your tousled hair,
Then turn to wince at the relentless daylight
Flooding passed the curtains on the window.

We share a quarrel about perceived jealousy.
But, we both realize each has a past;
Past lives, past loves, past friends.
And we each are still individual spirits
Basking in our freedom to share our lives
And to fulfill a craving for independence;
Independent (even secret) friends, thoughts.
A relationship founded on fidelity and truth.
We laugh at the silliness of our spat.

We stroll through a downtown shop
Amid throngs of people hurriedly on their way
To nowhere, just like us, I suppose.
Your lips brush my ear as you whisper
Sweet nothings about a passing patron
Provoking muffled laughter with your whimsy.
I feel your arm across the small of my back
And savor the warmth that overwhelms my soul.
I'd gladly walk with you anywhere.

We share good times and drinks with friends
At a crowded pub that closes at 2 on weekends.
Above the bustle, we steal a smile, a knowing look —
Suddenly, I am awakened from the dream!
What does it mean to dream from the past?
Yesterday's sunshine somehow warms me today.
Wherever life's path should lead, I wish for you
Happiness, fortune, dreams, and love,
And treasured memories of a love that was.

— Joyce E. Lampe Byrd

My Dearest Friend

Our chosen paths may not be the same;
But, no matter what fate says will be,
I cry your tears, you sing my cheers.
My dearest friend, you go with me.

Our winged spirits fly together free,
In stormy clouds, in skies of blue,
Fanning dancing sparks into flame.
My dearest friend, I go with you.

— Joyce E. Lampe Byrd

Blue Eyes

Blue eyes stare, darting from spot to spot,
Moving like a puppet, without much thought,
Doting on the role once so highly sought,
Giving an "i" that obligatory dot.

Blue eyes smile at the past and croon
Of a time of living, a glorious tune;
A song of merriment beyond the next moon,
Soaring high above in a fairytale balloon.

Blue eyes envision the way it could be,
A daring and courageous flight of reality
Sailing with emotions alive and free;
But, the vision drowns in a murky gray sea.

Blue eyes focus on the life of today,
Existing somehow in no special way,
Roaming to find someplace quiet to stay
'Til the spirit is ready to fly away.

Blue eyes misty, they already know —
Absent of dreams, the heart pines so.
Hiding in the clouds the winds won't blow,
And the tears are no longer able to flow.

— Joyce E. Lampe Byrd