Cry Beautiful

Tears are falling,
From beautiful eyes.
Tears are falling,
Because of beautiful lies.

Tears are falling,
Because of what you said.
Tears are falling,
Onto a beautiful bed.

Tears are falling,
In a beautiful stream.
Tears are falling,
Because of a beautiful dream.

Tears are falling,
Because of your lies.
Tears are falling,
As beautiful dies.

poem by Summer Sandercox
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Your Hero

I wanted to be your hero
To cure your dying heart
I figured all you needed
Was just a clean new start

So I helped you put the past behind
And begin your life anew
What I never counted on
Was falling in love with you

It made things complicated
Things just couldn't work out
I saw you start to falter
I felt you start to doubt

I wanted to be your hero
To take away your hurt
I didn't mean to bury you
Under 6 feet of dirt

poem by Summer Sandercox
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Child Of The Shadows

Be brave, my soul, be grounded at my center,
When all the world comes calling at my door;
I stand if only courage is my mentor,
In letting go of all I struggled for.

Be sweet, my dreams, the waking day deserts me,
My prayers fall down unanswered from the sky;
Fond reverie returns to haunt and hurt me,
My hindsight crawls, as fleeting chances fly.

Be sanctuary, my home, though still and empty,
Silence the angry thoughts searing my head;
Let lie, unopened, letters friends have sent me,
With rag dolls staring from her empty bed.

She is a picture now, and two dimensions
Allow no contact more than smiling eyes.
All art and music are but dull pretensions
While plastic sunlight lights her paper skies.

poem by Summer Sandercox
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Judgement for a Soldier

The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.

'Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true? '

The soldier squared his shoulders,
and said, 'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.

[...] Read more

poem by Summer Sandercox
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Just A Simple Soldier

He was getting old and paunchy,
and his hair was falling fast,
As he sat around the Legion,
telling stories of his past.
Of a war that he had fought in,
and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies,
they were heroes, everyone.
And though sometimes to his neighbors
his tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened,
for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer,
for old Bob has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer,
for a soldier died today.
He won't be mourned by many,
just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary,
very quiet sort of life.

[...] Read more

poem by Summer Sandercox
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