How dreary this cold December night,
chilling me to the bone, that I find my way home.
I've been lost, wandering through the seasons
looking for the words, the words to bring us home.
We've both scattered like crisp Autumn leaves
blowing in the wind and loosing our way.
How delicate we've become as we age like fine wine,
and the calendar pages cease to turn in our silence.
After all this time, I find I pine for words, now invisible,
that used to fill these pages.
Come down from flight, dear bard of mine
and share a line or two.
The songs we sang so long ago still echo in my head,
like the melody of tapping rain drops.
For now these words will sit upon this page
in their unseen weary presence.
( c ) Deborah A Andreas 12/2016
4 comments:
So as I continue walking it began to rain. I felt this fresh rain fall, a pleasant feeling surged in me as I felt the light tapping of raindrops on my body and listened to the soft pitter-patter melody of your pearlescent beaded raindrops on the dried pages. It was blissful. Words broke the silence of the night, tapping on autumn’s leaves so thirsty.
The fragrance from Christmas tree needles
still linger in the air
and I sit and ponder
"And so that was Christmas!".
I wander over to my favorite corner
on the world wide web
and find that you have found--
me!
Excitement flashes though me
like when I was a child
on Christmas morning
opening gifts.
And so it is now clear to me
that I will keep my silly resolution--
to write, no matter what!
Even if just a little,
every other
day.
Please Write I do so enjoy your words!
I just did, sir! Could be my muse is back? xo
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