I did not say
I have come home
I stood beside the fence
On which the persimmon vine
Still held it's summer leaves
And evidence of great
purple blossoms,
it once bore
That were no more
The milkweed silently
Beside it with it's pods
Ready for refining
In the autumn sun
I stood beside the mossy bank
Below the middle wood
Where violet leaves were showing
The old barn warmed itself
Upon the meadow side
And here the duck
came down to rim
The little pool of water
From which the horses drank
From here the trail
became too-far, too-steep
Far away - this distant day
Now comforts me in sleep
I did not say
I have come home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love this...the images, the simplicity of connecting with all of us who 'did not say' they have come home... the melancholy is there...a time that may not come again...nice write...Coach