becoming one with days
and resting where the truth, her ways
now understood
the duly sifted memories, that should
never be misplaced
for time and tears cannot be replaced
o’er fields that run
with early green, then glistening golden sun
the fortunes that could be made in thoughts of yaw
but yielding to the call of that she saw
so, regretful eyes of lost opportunity
shed life, the price for this unity
and here will rest
at the end or beginning of a fateful quest
perhaps of time, the treasure
spent or lost, its measure
though seemingly cast in stark algidity
still, who’s masquerade be joyful eternity
©2009 Hey Hey
No comments:
Post a Comment