The Misted Pane

I passed by a window
Where an old man smiled 
and misted up the dirty pane

Behind his eyes 
the sadness showed 
of every steep & rocky road
He'd had to climb

Next day I thought I'd call on him
And out he came
So pale and thin
-but with that smile

And graceful guile 

He said

Chorus:

Son, 
in my mind, 
I'm as free as a summer breeze
And I drift up high 
to the blue of the sky
Where my old girl waits for me…
... And, together, we are free

And the stars appear 
And I hold her near
And we dance on the seas of the moon

… and I tell her that I'll be home soon.

Well, we stood alone & talked for hours
His lifetime bloomed like summer flowers
Before my eyes

And he told me of his wife who'd passed
And how they'd shared a thousand laughs
But she had to go

And leave him alone

And children's laughter never came
Although they tried, but, all in vain
Not meant to be

So, they roamed free

And he said
Son, 
in my mind, 
I'm as free as a summer breeze
And I drift up high 
to the blue of the sky
Where my old girl waits for me…
... And, together, we are free

And then stars appear 
And I hold her near
And we dance on the seas of the moon

… and I tell her that I'll be home soon.

Well, the very next day he passed away
I guess he had nothing left to say
And into the sky

I know he flew so high!

And suddenly I felt so bad
For everything I'd ever had
I'd thrown away

Day after day

Took for granted every breath
Stole from those on cusp of death
Without a thought

But, now a know
Life is a treasure
And as a man 
I'll meet my measure

Or, at least I'll try

And with every twig
I'll try my best
To build ourselves 
a happy nest
Until the day

We fly away

Right up to the seas of the moon

©️ Stephen W Atkinson. 


The Misted Pane...

Published North East poet with a love of lyrics & music tries his hand at using controversial AI to construct some of his original lyrics & poems into song. The results are, like the technology itself, sometimes staggering. 
Humour, mental health, love, loss, nostalgia & heritage are all explored, as well as a few of his darker offerings.
Stephen acknowledges AI can never, & should never replace  real musicians, they will always be the rhythm in our bones. But, for poets & lyricists not blessed with musical ability, it can be a wondrous rabbit hole to fall into...

Any 'real' musicians wanting to replicate or do their own version of any of Stephen's 'songs' are quite welcome to try. Just DM Stephen on here with your version. 
❤️

