Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Vision of the Past

Site for picture:

I cannot return to who I was
And even if I could
It wouldn’t be the same
The willow tree with the old rope swing
Is nothing but a lucent limb
Its sigh a page in my memory
A tear in Time’s rushing stream
With the laughter of neighborhood children
Gathered to recline and dream
And the hours, carefree and golden
Slipping heedlessly through Augusts’ glass...
...but now where the proud willow tree once sprawled
There is nothing but wind-blown grass
Where, across its grave the younglings dash
Unaware of its hallowed space
Or the roots beneath decaying to soil
While years mark a woman’s face
Yet still, crystal clear in her mind is a world
And the sound of a young girls cry
‘oh, how I do love to go up in a swing,
Up to the clear, blue sky’

I cannot return to who I was
It wouldn’t be the same, you see
Yet, I am who I am because of who I was
On my way to who I’m going to be…



  1. Oh, Janet... this is amazing. The willow tree and old rope swing, the mark of year's on our faces, and that ending verse. I just love it. Can I put a link to it on my FB writing page?

  2. Laurie, thank-you and yes I would be humbly honored to have you link to it.

  3. The poem is excellent, beautiful writing. I like the use of my painting with this too, the black and white really works. Excellent.

  4. Jim, thank-you...other thoughts sent in e-mail...if you have not checked out his link, you should!


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