I begin the descent to the valley.
A lone, shadowy figure
wafts in and out of a creamy white mist,
draped in a somber linen cloak,
and appearing to float just beyond
the twisting reeds and unruly grasses
that guard this secluded pond.
turn thy face that I might behold."
I inhale.
Such sorrow is divulged
within the depths of his gaze.
saturates my soul
like a soaking summer rain.
Gasping for breath,
I grasp at nonsensical conclusions
as time pulses out loud.
couples mid-air with the perfume
of freshly bloomed honeysuckle,
heightening my unannounced euphoria.
Resolute cognizance
washes over me straightaway.
.
why he has lingered nigh,
enslaved by such sadness.
"I was certain your memories
of yesteryear had flown."
Image via Pixabay
the sadness of losing memories....
Heartbreaking... thank you for stopping by :)
Nicely captured. You are a wordsmith.
My sincere thanks to you :)
touching. great poem
Thank you :)
we always seek an objective correlative of our grief - something external that can help express what is wholly internal, and that is why ultimately words fail and fall short of feelings. But such a lovely attempt :)
Thanks John. I found this in some writing I did a few years back, and do not remember exactly what prompted the mood, but it fit with the here and now. :)
Yes, it did and a thing of beauty is timeless. I'm sometimes in awe of poems I wrote at seventeen - the more real, the more they last
Beautiful and sad at the same time
Thank you so much :)
A lyrical punch in the solar plexus. Awesome writing.
Thank you sir :)