Tracks of a Wandering Mind

Poetry, stories and random thoughts from a wandering mind.

Sestina For A Child

The mist would rise in the early morning
And cover the slopes of the hills in dreams
Of white and gray and soft veils of shadows.
Bright sun peaked the mountaintops and cast dark
Shapes over the green forests that would move
My soul with all the beauty of that world.

Warm rains turned dirt roads to mud in that world
As I rushed out to play in the morning,
And time would stop for me as I would move
From one thing to the next as I chased dreams;
Endless adventures that held me till darkness
Fell and I hurried home in the shadows.

Our lives were good and bad, light and shadow,
But all I knew of life lived in this world.
My universe was home and hills and dark
Shadows and the misted forests of morning,
And I only left that place in my dreams,
Never thinking that I might one day move,

Leaving my heart in the hills, only to move
Me to think of the mountains and shadows
Of home when I slept and for a time dreamed.
Life flew so much faster and my small world
Grew larger and colder, and the morning
Mists and forests and mountains and the dark

Valleys were left behind in the darkness
Of the past, dimly remembered as I moved
Through life, looking to the workday morning,
Chasing time as it fled in the shadows
Of sleep.  Only then could I slow the world,
Recalling the child I was in those dreams.

My world slower now, I have time for those dreams,
The ones he dreamed as he slept in the dark.
That child and I, separated by a world,
Remember more of each other as we move
Closer together in dreams, sifting shadows
To find sun, rain, and hills misted in morning.

To travel the world, as a child does in dreams,
To greet the morning, then welcome the dark,
Knowing sleep will move dreams to again live in shadows.

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November 6, 2015 Posted by | Poetry | 2 Comments

   

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