Echo's Genesis Poem by Peter Rolny
Echo's Genesis
On this evening pure and free,
The sun is sinking below the sea.
A strand of trees and mountains blare,
While flowers trumpet in the air,
As if touched by an angel's veil.
But this is not an angels' hail:
A wind fills the cavernous mind.
An echo rings in hollow pride.
Convictions raise the mouth to dwell
On the love from whose lips I fell.
Thursday, January 2, 2003
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5/7/2024 7:29:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
