Image

I hold the image cast through countless seeded years

of your familiar self; flesh writ in solid, sensing bone,

as heart then speaks through instrument of mind

and wails like weeping sirens, in ancient, grieving tone.

 

Ephemeral the vision dances in dark halls of thought,

wraith-like, fading, moving into view and then is gone,

as if to tease at edges  glued in hope to flimsy floors;

so is memory, by the years, ground down and worn.

 

Holding on to what the days have drawn so deep within,

clinging to the love which rests in wait and never dies,

hoping beyond knowing that what was will live again;

so does the vision weave through time’s eternal ties.

Advertisements

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s