And What of Me, If I should Fall.
And What of Me, If I Should Fall
What more can I say to thee, on wounded heart and bended knee,
October winds caress my hall, and what of me, if I should fall.
The yellow photo that cannot talk, the cup of wine now turned to chalk, summers touch the king of Saul, and what of me, if I should fall.
Distant echo from the past, love so true on blood stained glass, that frozen kiss at the midnight ball, and what of me, if I should fall.
House of paper and cotton buds, beating heart and mental thud,
My name on red and cindered walls, and what of me, if I should fall.
The old church on that windswept hill, Heathcliff shivers with frowning chill, swallows song and sky so tall, and what of me, if I should fall.
My blue sea with its whitewash foam, October streets and home alone,
Unto the breach with yelling call, and what of me, if I should fall.
Cloudless forest on barren land, self destruct by noble hand, my sword is sharp and steely raw, and what of me, if I should fall.
poem by Fergus Michael Condron
Added by Poetry Lover
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