Left Behind Poem by Barry Middleton
Left Behind
I leave behind the perennials
the daffodils of youth
the memory and the faces
and the traces of the truth
I leave behind the month of May
the sun on a sparkling creek
the dove and the promise of love
and the whispers that we seek
I leave behind the black and white
in humble words upon a page
the hope of recurrent spring
and the final wisdom of old age
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: life and death,passing,poetry,wisdom
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5/9/2024 10:45:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This poem of yours here and the one I posted today 'As on unhydrous dry land'' have something in common.To have lived and ejoyed life is quite different from having lived and not having enjoyed the experiences it offers.Thinking that the life we live in front of the eternity is a grain of sea's sand you remain astound.I'm 71 and I have started to thing what a burden are for my children to name only my thousands of books.I do look to give them away.I do envy ven my dresses.We will leave this world and they will remain.Or thinking of the knives in use.They may remain for centuries.Anyway, my dear I'm happy to have lived in this world.Five or ten fifteen years more do not make the difference.I'm ready.I only think of my grandchildren.they will have a grandfather to love them.....Excuse me for my...how to say it! ....
Sentimentality? Nothing wrong with that. Looking through stuff I have posted here and deleting some. This one will stay. It is what I like my poetry to be - simple, lyrical and profound at some level.