Borrowed Places Poem by Gerry Legister

I hear the rustling of leaves in the trees,
the wind moves and changes direction with ease.
Blow new seasons to earth from the sky,
and open heavens window for a day.
We shower with the dew of early clouds,
sunrise unfolds and galaxies declines in moods,
we are cocoon in thoughts of our own,
images of places borrowed, becomes our home.
Traces of memories, making regular rounds,
some pass by in mute shadows, others in the clouds,
We see them half turn going into the distance,
life for brief moments are carried in a trance.
They surface and dance in familiar circles,
we see faces, and take pictures in borrowed places,
we the society of mankind, will go to join them,
our troubles and trials on earth will soon be done.
We are only hired vessels on borrowed time,
acting as geniuses, with tools in labyrinth of the sublime.
We take our chances whenever we find opportunity,
to challenge the ways we go to our destiny.