Whenever I go to the roof to spend some time my own
find the chunk of the past I left memories rusty grown
see there shadows of father hear his walking feet
if I strain my senses hard even hear his heart beat!
I hear there the lost footsteps in the wind faintly sighs
in the dark nooks imprints of years that quickly passed by
find there the ghost of dreams she and I had spun
their ashes now scattered from our memories long gone!
I see there the old me in the corner standing aloof
unaged ungrown my fossil on the roof
by the light of the fireflies he still searches me
rewrites in the moonglow long discarded poetry!
On the roof times are not dead they merely abscond
hide under the hyacinth of the night's silent pond
I find them lurking there sounds and sights of yore
for times once lived never go from us anymore!
Times lived stay with us forever - like footprints in cement.. they hide under the hyacinth of the night's silent pond - wonderful expression. In the quiet darkness, memories come alive, some to delight, others to deride...
A poignant appraisal of life and a snapshot of a moment all rolled up in one. How lucky you and I are to have the luxury of time to address, to share these deepest feelings with so many others. A 10.0 from me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I did stroll back in time with you and enjoyed the poetic trip. Nice poem, Loyd