Nearlyman
Where are the flowers that once were there?
The beauty that knew the substance
of sweet reason for my lifetime spree,
guiding me joyous to set my soul adance.
What oddly fate made loss decree?
Where are they now these latter days?
Once golden, hues come transeunt-grey,
as thoughts arise each dawn in avid hope
but harsh reality daunts my way
with naught but prayer the means to cope.
For all I knew have flown: Now left forlorn
my world a lonely place can be,
except for deep-etched memory.
Oh! Where are those flowers, my kith and kin
that were so much a part of me?
Author notes
*transeunt - ie. A mental act, causing effects outside of the mind. (Not evident in some dictionaries)
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Just one yellow(ed) rose ...
and so appropiate for this Memorial Day! A pensive piece with a wee bit of nostalgia built in. Good to see you over here though and much like a small ray of sunshine peeping in through a dusty window.
joy
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