The Brown Eyed Dreamer

'Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.' William Wordsworth


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The First Night

All I can remember of those rooms,
Was a haze that fell along the walls,
And laughter that rose and fell like
Confetti bursts at the final bell toll.
I remember smiles wide as sunlight,
And kisses from foreign, familiar faces-
Promises that friendships made
Would not be forgotten.

But most of all I remember
The soft, sweet certainty that
Told me even if every other night
Of these 365 memories is laced
With bittersweet regret;
This night would remain the beacon
Of a beautiful,
Wonderful,
New Year.

Morning all! This post was quickly scribbled about five minutes ago as I’m walking to work so I apologise in advance if it makes no sense. 2013 for me was a wonderful year, and I was fortunate enough to spend the transition into 2014 with some of my most favourite people.
In regards to 2014, I can only hope it brings me good music, good food and good memories with the very best friends. I hope you all had a fantastic New Year and that this year will be the very best yet. Have a wonderful day!

~thebrowneyeddreamer


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A bitter thank-you; An honest goodbye.

I should really thank you for
Making me perfect cups of tea and
Showing me all your favourite bands and
Staying up late to say everything about nothing.

But I just want to forget about
Wasted tears falling in empty mugs and
Reminders of you in every stupid song
And staying up waiting for replies that never came.

You never really cared,
Did you?


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Memory of a Summer’s Night

A favourite memory of a fading summer was one
Of a warm bass note resonating in a darkening sky,
Where the night slowly cloaked a sea of bobbing heads and tapping feet
And the wafting scent of coffee and rings of cigarette smoke
Intermingled with the maze of music notes that lingered in the air
Long after each musician finished their piece.
Most of all I remember the crisp sweet air that whispered through trees
Above our heads, their branches swinging along with the swaying tunes
Almost as if they felt the music and were dancing with us
To the last few slow numbers of the night.

And somewhere between the calls of coffee orders and cries of one more song,
Between the rising crescendo of applause and the cascading fall of leaves,
Music fading along with the last ebbs of daylight
And silence falling upon the slowly emptying street;
Somewhere between I heard a promise-
That although this night would soon end
And the memory would fade from us,
Soon summer would come back again
With new nights there to greet us.


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A Generation of Lost Dreamers

I think we should always remain as dazed dreamers;
String ambitions like comets in our starry eyes
And follow their trails across the skies.

I think we should dream of the wonderfully impossible;
Hold fantasies like beacons of soft, hopeful glow
And follow their light wherever they go.

 

Picture version:

indieshite


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Life of a Waitress

The funny part about being a waitress is getting
To glimpse the most intimate parts of a person.
I know how much milk you take in your coffee,
How many sugars go into your tea;
If you prefer flavours or just a ‘plain old cuppa’,
If you daintily sip, or hastily slurp.
You pour me life stories as I pour you refills,
And laughter froths over flavoured lattes as
We share a private joke.

And yet; As you leave
You become just another face among a sea of faces,
Another clanging of change; another torn receipt,
Another mumbled thank you and small smile as you go.
Half empty mugs hold your last traces, a final legacy
Only to be swept up and replaced by another face,
One more coffee order.


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Only in Night

I tell myself I’m okay with being alone
And a part of me believes it.

But another part creeps out in the night and
Mourns over the empty, crumpled sheets
That still hold your shape and your scent. It
Cries over the memories of interlocked fingers
And lips held only a breath apart-
So familiar though so far away.

I tell myself I’m okay with being alone
But only if I’m alone
With you.