She calls her old dog, Henry
And together they frequent the park
Where she ponders the man that's oft brooding
About what or for whom she knows not
She pauses under an old naked oak tree
And sheds tears for the ghost of a friend
Recalling her smile full of sunshine
Hearing her sylph voice on the wind
Time and people jog by in vast circles
She watches and feels left behind
Life keeps moving and changing its pattern
There's no reason, no preplanned design
She'll keep missing the ones that have left her
But continue to keep her own pace
Meet new people, all just as gifted
To help fill in that now vacant space
(01/12/07)
A lovely piece of observation full of reflection. Kind regards, Justine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good imagery, strong pathos. Nice work.