Our lines are carved, like rivulets in stone,
As old as the Mountains, We can only mould, and shape,
Yet, they intoxicate, like the finest wines,
Drawing us to their tastes,
Ambiguities of the others, wavering our paths,
Our insecurities, of yesterday’s songs.
Rich voices, their baritones chill,
Excitements quickening our pulses as they reverberate,
Voices call forth, the naive children we were,
Longing to play free again,
Ghosts in derelict school yards
Long festered and decayed.
Buildings and ruins, stone on stone,
Scattered with rebirth of lush green grass and oak trees,
Flowing with currents of eternal green streams,
The soft caress of childhood memories,
Games, trout tickling and laughing.
Innocently running barefoot in the dewy heath,
Striving to capture the electric neon of the bubble of life,
Enveloping the wanton ferule, dancing in rivers,
So many paths ahead,
So many difficult mountains to climb.
Paths chosen are arduous and rocky,
Where harsh boulders encountered, must be climbed.
Reality makes us smile, and remember the way we ran
The awakening of slumbering memories,
Carved in immortal stones, those rivulets,
Gone, but not entirely forgotten.
And with that I have some awards to thank you for!
Thanks to Jingle, for this Easter basket. Having eaten my body weight in chocolate today, I’m proud to display a virtual basket of goodies. Happy Easter <pasg hapus> to you my friend!
I would like to thank Adam, who believes me to be a promising poet! I thank you so much for seeing and enjoying my attempts at poetry.
And finally Trisha who has given me this lovely “you make my blog smile” award. I’m quite proud to wear these little awards on my blog. Thanks to you all!