(c) Colorofsky Poems
Comments about (c) Colorofsky
Footsteps Of The Land
The hills they call,
for the footsteps of the land,
to once again, once again,
walk them in unison.
they sway, in the breeze,
dropping, dropping their leaves,
crying for a return,
that may never be.
The earth was turned by loving hands,
that are no longer there to caress...
The land, the land, shall never forget,
those once, trodden,
The Trail Remembered
I ambled to a wooded clearing,
The spot of an old remembered trail.
On a cool September morn,
on a hillside up from a vale.
Its blazed, full-width was almost overgrown,
oh so little left there to submit.
‘Twas being used probably by deer now,
or occasional meandering rabbit.