What comes to me
Blown in on the wind of yesterday
Slipping through cracks
Memories of
A day gone by.
A man comes round
Spectral illusion or flesh and blood
To knock on doors
Opened to wonder
Of a childhood friend.
I wonder perhaps
Will you be grey
Aged and tired by the years
That slipped away through cracks
Days not counted
Since goodbye,
As sand runs so speedily
Through the glass
And skies greet the mind that ponders
How long again till the next goodbye,
Will time be wasted
As days drift on like lost thoughts
Left to become merely
A faded photograph of a silent man
In black.
Thanks Kat, words flowing so nicely these days, enjoying life and summer nights😊 peace and blessings and have an amazing weekend😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Life writes the best stories. I’m so happy for you, dear friend. It’s a beautiful poem. ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wrote a piece on my other blog about my fathers bibles…..two days later I get a call after thirty years…he wants to meet up again before his days are done….whirlwind of strange manifestations but all good. But I feel sad for so many days lost…..will see him this weekend. Reasons and purposes I suppose😊 sunny days and memories. Peace and blessings to you Michael, K
LikeLiked by 1 person
I really enjoyed this one, K. Time took on a sepia tone for me the last day or two, becoming an uncertain blur. It is such a strange environment, like a river that is always washing up hints of your past…
Peace
Michael
LikeLiked by 1 person