September Rain

She came last September
Ripped my heart out
She drowned out all words and sound
All the desperate screams and shouts

She was born on the day as I
A sorrow in September
Woeful with the widowed wind
Waiting for her past December

At length she bled right out
Trampling the ground beneath my feet
My empty house now stands
A ruin of crumpled sheets

Would she come again
Around this river bend
Would she walk alone
Or still be married to the wind

I look to the skies
Hope perched high in the sun
Yet I remember with a wry smile
My lone September, my cold grey one!

P.S: Written on September 3rd, 2012

Portrait of a Lady

I whisper in the trees
across the hills
I run and hideĀ 
in hearts of desire
I bow my headĀ 
in peace and contentment
and on lonely nights
I set some souls on fire
I am a dream for some
a myth of a dark mystery
and in the cold distant stories of woe
I am the portrait of a lady