Impressions
And when the music played..
I cried for all that has been this past year,
for all that is, and all that remains.
Sometimes there is something within our being that we keep silent.
It is this silence that stirs our heart a little when we allow.
I thought of my father today when the last wind of daylight rushed through the trees
when the piled up orange leaves stacked against the house and bush dared to remain
upon the still green grass of Summer
And I thought of how time is so very fickle. It makes impressions deepen with desire
And yet to meet lovers weep when the music slows before the last breath of time.
lmdelsanto
november 9,2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You captured special moments well