For you...
Scattered leaves of brown and gray
Pasted on the forest floor,
Like butterflies and paper
Of this dampened mornings misty
Symphony of life and hopeful beauty.
Far in the shadows comes someone
Who's silhouette breaks
The streaming beams pitched
Toward the dying thatched grasses,
Waiting for the dark to quietly fall.
Too distant this image,
To see and know,
But close enough to feel
An urgency and vagueness
On this chilled gray morn.
The gait is of a man, or boy,
Too tall and thin, and walking slow
Under this canopy that hides the sky,
He walks as if in deepest anguish,
Yet steps gently on this covered path.
Within my focus, he came to be,
And my eyes beheld a man to be,
With reddened eyes, with browning hair,
He seemed a friend, indeed,
But from where, and how, and why?
Eyes locked, almost a shiver,
No words to be spoken on this day,
As he paused his saunter,
And turned away, back to whence
His mood and mind had came.
A tear was cried, a memory made,
As the vision faded upon this day,
Back through sunrays, and trees of old,
Back to the visions of places gold,
Back to hiding a mind and soul.
Poetry by Morpheus
Read 700 times
Written on 2006-02-07 at 22:32
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A Vision Gold
Scattered leaves of brown and gray
Pasted on the forest floor,
Like butterflies and paper
Of this dampened mornings misty
Symphony of life and hopeful beauty.
Far in the shadows comes someone
Who's silhouette breaks
The streaming beams pitched
Toward the dying thatched grasses,
Waiting for the dark to quietly fall.
Too distant this image,
To see and know,
But close enough to feel
An urgency and vagueness
On this chilled gray morn.
The gait is of a man, or boy,
Too tall and thin, and walking slow
Under this canopy that hides the sky,
He walks as if in deepest anguish,
Yet steps gently on this covered path.
Within my focus, he came to be,
And my eyes beheld a man to be,
With reddened eyes, with browning hair,
He seemed a friend, indeed,
But from where, and how, and why?
Eyes locked, almost a shiver,
No words to be spoken on this day,
As he paused his saunter,
And turned away, back to whence
His mood and mind had came.
A tear was cried, a memory made,
As the vision faded upon this day,
Back through sunrays, and trees of old,
Back to the visions of places gold,
Back to hiding a mind and soul.
Poetry by Morpheus
Read 700 times
Written on 2006-02-07 at 22:32
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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