It is in the quietus of early morn when I offtimes think of you.
So gentle a rose in the harshness of summers.
And how the mystery of life unfurls against the backdrop of heaven,
leaves me now to count the darkest of stars
What pilot drives our destiny?
Surely it must be a madman at the helm
To leave memories upon memories to fade away
pulled from the shoreline like the sands
into an ocean of forgetfullness
But for this moment, I have not forgotten you
For we shall one day sail again the waters
weep and love and know no others
for only time is the wall between us
very moving piece, melancholy ... and yet, not. thanks for your comments, it brought me here. i look forward to reading more of your work.
Reviewed by June Thompson (Reader)
Reviewed on December 2, 2005
brilliant poem
how I can relate.... and as they say every rose has it's thorn and all the likes there in, some of us keep the rose to remind us of that love, that life, that dream we once had...
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Love Tinka
how I can relate.... and as they say every rose has it's thorn and all the likes there in, some of us keep the rose to remind us of that love, that life, that dream we once had...
definately a madman at the helm
Surely it must be a madman at the helm
Life, and love, can truly seem this way at times, and this is a most powerful piece, William.