The
Sound of a Rhyme
Warm sixth
month morning
Winding
pathways in the park
Cloudless
sky, earth dust
Fluctuating
sunlight rays
And
the sound of rustling leaves
Whispers
that deceive
Journos
statements on T.V.
In
the afternoon
Standing
on a low sand dune
By
the Pacific Ocean
The
cliff’s corrosion
As
the wind dissolves the stone
On a
cloudless night
The
full moon’s achingly bright
Shadows
from an owl in flight
A
brief dream-like sight
Above
a construction site
Clouds
slowly gather
“It
doesn’t really matter,
You’ll
do what you want to do.”
A
stain of mildew
His
anger steadily grew,
It
almost consumed
But
as the warm wind resumes
After
months of chilling cold
As
the spring foretold
Day
by day snow fades away
From
the tangled quince
“I
don’t need to be convinced.
I
know you have your reasons.”
The
ice-cold season
Like
regrets that won’t depart
From
my memory
There
is a discovery
Like
an ancient hidden scroll
As
colored leaves roll
Past
the ancient monument
Surrounded
by trees
The
young newlyweds are pleased
With
each other and with time
The
sound of a rhyme
From
a poem that they have shared
Hovers
in the air
Sweet
incense, a scent that’s rare,
Beauty
that dispels despair
The
old couple stops and stares
While
cherry blossoms scatter
No comments:
Post a Comment