Tracks of a Wandering Mind

Poetry, stories and random thoughts from a wandering mind.

Whispering Winds

The grasses are a verdant green
And lend a gentle scent
To air still warm with summer sun,
Though Summer’s nearly spent.

The leaves now whisper in the breeze
And slowly fade to gold,
As cool nights herald Luna’s path
And Autumn’s wind grows bold.

All the plantings now have faded
And harvest has begun,
As the warm, green days of Summer
Near the end of their run.

The trees whisper of a stirring,
A Lady in her keep,
Restless and close to wakening,
White Princess still asleep.

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September 10, 2012 Posted by | Poetry | , , | 2 Comments

Memory Walk

A well dressed old man in a dark gray suit,
He wore a freshly pressed shirt and tie.
He sat on a small bench by the river,
Smiling as the waters rolled by.

His eyes were closed as though he slept
Until he looked at me and grinned.
“Sorry young man, I didn’t see you there,”
“I was a boy and was fishing again.”

He patted the seat beside him and said
“You look puzzled, come sit and we’ll talk.”
“When you reach my age you spend lots of time”
“Taking trips back down Memory Walk.”

“I met my wife here on this little bench”
“Almost seventy years ago.”
“I scattered her ashes down on the bank”
“When she finally had to go.”

“I caught my first fish not far from here,”
“And I fished with my dad all the time.”
“But the cholera came and then he died”
“In the summer of thirty nine.”

I must have looked as sad as I felt
For the old man just smiled and said “Son,”
“Don’t fret, because that’s just what life is,”
“It’s good and bad all rolled up into one.”

“Getting old is no trick, it just takes time,”
He said as he stared far away.
“Just remember to slow yourself down and”
“To make a new memory every day.”

The old man smiled and his eyes closed
As he sat and dozed on that bench,
And I heard him whisper as I left,
“I think I’ll go fishing again.”

September 7, 2012 Posted by | Poetry | , , | 6 Comments

   

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