Oh, look, Max! Your little face rests on my right leg,
As you look up into the sky.
Can you see the blades of overgrown grass
Reflecting the dying sun?
Smell the wind carried past us?
Last night’s rain?
Can you feel that strong nothing
In the air?
That something.
The clouds now gather around the sun,
And Apollo hides, still shining.
Luminously inescapable,
We are – always listening together.
The dandelions sway behind us, losing
Seeds.
Something reminds us of silence.
The breeze brings on a half-hearted
Love song.
The sound of a child’s dream,
A deep sleep.
The buttery sun is almost invisible
To us now, gone.
My eyes stick to the right,
As I think about
And look at
Everything.
And so it is, my brother! How it should always be.
If you squint hard enough, you can almost forget
About the dullness of the dark.
Every sound has a story.
Listen to the rested rustling in the trees,
Each speaks its own tale.
And the symphonic music of the moonlight asks,
What is missing?
If we all listened,
You and I, the grass, the wind, the rain,
The sun, the child dreaming, the dark,
The trees and the moonlight,
Would there be anything left to hear?
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
i really like this one
-
i was trying to pick a favorite part of this and every line is my favorite.
-
The last five lines of this piece are exceedingly impressive. There is an innocence here, a purity that is almost tangible. I am jealous! And you have every right to be proud of this poem. I wish I had your talent at 18. Keep writing - you can only produce magic!
Best wishes -
I love this. Seriously...its what I wish I could write. The last 5 lines are my favorite. Excellent work.
Adding your comment:
