A Last Farewell

Walking through
this world of silence,
I pause remembering,
the time we both were here,
when dust did not gather
in your room,
and vines
did not creep
along the balcony rail.
A time when laughter
filled the valley,
when we were together.
A time when your brothers
would ride with us
up north hunting,
or east to my home.
But now, the valley is silent,
the lords who dwelt here once
are gone, as are you.
You have left
these now silent shores.
Your brothers wait for me,
at the harbor knowing,
I cannot leave from here
without one last farewell.
I take the leather jacket
lying on the floor.
You loaned it to me once,
a long time ago,
and put it on.
It still smells of Ranger
after all these years.
That's it, I think,
And look around.
There's nothing
here for me, not now.
I turn to leave.
I cannot go.
I belong with you.
The trees seem to whisper
a secret message,
'Go!' they say, 'Go!'
I leave.
Namárië, my brother.



Poetry by Arore
Read 865 times
Written on 2005-06-10 at 22:02

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chasingtheday The PoetBay support member heart!
i agree with the part of the jacket, it gives the piece a time, perhaps using the word garment or coat might be in better keeping with the timeless beginning.
2005-07-02


Angie-M
So beautiful, but i think you lost so much by saying a leather jacket. I know that it's the right word, but it really takes you to reality. More thinking of the sities than our beloved world of Tolkien.
2005-06-12