I remain, – Eva Weggelaar

I remain,  – Eva Weggelaar

I’m standing in the alley with a cigarette
smoke drifting away
A lighted street shows a passing silhouette
nothing’s here to stay
Only a dull sorrow
when the hour is grey
Holding off tomorrow
at the edge of the day
And I, still signing ‘lots of love’
and writing down a plot
Perhaps nothing’s ever good enough
but I still say ‘why not’

I’ve heard nothing’s better left unsaid
and I wonder what I think of that
©Eva Weggelaar

One-way plea – Eva Weggelaar

One-way plea – Eva Weggelaar

Made up my eyes, my lips, made up my mind,
I keep wishing you’d be something more than kind.
If not today, then let it be tomorrow;
it seems to suit me but I do detest the sorrow.
I’d like to be the one who can brighten up your day,
who can ask the glowing stars to fall,
telling their lost lights to be on call
to guide you on your way.

Can you see them, all the stars that are falling
into the street lights?
Hear them calling
to your car, driving through a thousand nights?

I’d like to be the one who’s home,
or at the very least, the one who’s always there for you,
writing inadequate words that are nonetheless true
with her thumb stuck to her phone.
So I try to get on speaking terms, even if it’s only just;
darling please don’t blame me for I must.
I try to break your silence single-handedly,
my precious monologue, my one-way plea.
©Eva Weggelaar

Rhododendrons and Azaleas – Eva Weggelaar

Rhododendrons and Azaleas – Eva Weggelaar

It’s as if you could still smell the azaleas last night,
memories cloud your sight.
Their scent lingers in your mind,
showing only what you’d hoped to find.

Even perfection ends in failure
Nothing can make up for this
Were we always so unsure?

Now the leaves are falling down,
with all those sorrows left to drown.
The flowers have dried up in your hand,
while time is running through you like sand.

Even perfection ends in failure
Something must make up for this
We weren’t always so unsure

All fading, past,
nothing left but the last.
You press your hand upon the table,
no words, no time, still unable.

But why sigh?
Perhaps tomorrow we will say goodbye
©Eva Weggelaar