My friend, I think the sunset knows our names.
Old leaves are whispering them to windowpanes.
A Jew's harp wind plays the elusive dusk.
Blueness comes in like a compelling tide.
The August fingers of the western light
Is writing us into its history book.
You promise me that good-bye will be gold
And glorious as our mortality.
Copyright,2009, Sandra Fowler
There is great beauty and reconciliation in what you have given us here. Its mood reminds me of one of my favorite liturgical phrases 'the peace that passeth all understanding.'
The most significance moments of dying, should be beautiful as this! ! Excellent writes my dear Sandra.
Sunset, has in its list our names Nature ever renews and rewrites and remains new It looks as if nothing has ever changed Yes, it is real gold to be part of it and to be aware.
'You promise me that good-bye will be gold And glorious as our mortality'. Sandra, your poem brings great comfort to me, especially at this moment in time. I feel a sense of peace and reassurance that everything is going to be alright <3 reminding me just how wonderful poetry can be to the soul x With great respect, Ally
There is so much depth in your poem. I keep reading it over again and contemplating. Your phrases are thought provoking. To think that a sunset knows your names. This is autumn gold.10/10
Sandraji, you live a poet's life fully.... you are beyond words.......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the sunset knows our names, old leaves are whispering them to windowpanes. that verse is showing the immortality of your words. excellent write, as always. another ten