I long for a lost and ghostly past,
for love and a murmuring forest
where beeches, phantom white,
were landmarks on the way home.
I long for a familiar place of rest,
a soft faithful hand and comfort,
a warm white woodland cottage
with heirloom lilies still in bloom.
The dream that passed my way
is interrupted now like a movie,
the old and brittle film broken
and faded to a dark emptiness.
And this is a most familiar story,
all the bold, naive plans of youth
vanished in time's sullen grove,
still longing, hoping without hope.
Nice poem on longing.....The search is on and it will never end till the very last breath, a thought provoking poem...10+
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
in time's sullen grove =beautifulllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll