Time was lost.
Leaves blew off
from their branches
and were trampled underfoot.
The wistful wind rose to the occasion,
opening airways of emptiness, and chilling
friendless bodies of sparkling water.
Sneaking short slurps of the silent stream,
he lifted his head and noticed a moss growing
on the north side of nowhere.
Having reached for the lowest branch
of the nearest tree, he grimaced.
Noticing a familiar face, he groped.
Tired and beaten were its' features, he noticed.
The sense of his past was potent.
And he found his lost time under a rock.
Walt,
ReplyDeleteWe both were thinking about time today! I added your link to my blog. Thanks so much for permission to link. I appreciate the growing network and the opportunity to share and be inspired. Proud to be a follower.
Walt,
ReplyDeleteI have been reading and enjoying your poetry for some time, as Robert Lee Brewer often uses your poems for examples. I am overjoyed to stumble across your blog and look forward to following.
Margo