Brown Flowers Poem by David Blake
Brown Flowers
It is when I close my eyes that I see what it is to be.
Passing by the places we used to see, the
memories and dreams lost now like the fields to
the weeds. Only for a moment do I lament what I
know never could be, yet my curiosity refuses to
set me free. Hanging on to my desires, I know my
visions of life are as hollow as dust blowing in the
gentle breeze, but I can’t seem to let go of yesterday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 8:34:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Splendid write here David! A pleasure to read thank you! ! *10*! ! Best regards Thad