The wind moans blue beneath my door
It tugs the leaf from tree to grass
It draws the sea across the shore
And strains against rain-pelted glass
Thus, I can never really tell
Was it a tear or rain that fell?
Thought moans, a tempest in my mind
It clenches sorrows in my heart
Then surges, like the autumn wind
Across the twilight’s dim rampart
Thus, I can never really tell
Was it a tear or dusk that fell?
The quiet moans a lullaby
It trembles in leafy rain-song
A tune of moments slipping by
Of whispered hours here, then gone
Thus I can never really tell,
Was it a tear, or time that fell?
© Janet Martin
Yuriy: This nostalgie is necessary to rise the next day.
ReplyDeleteah yes,rising to the lure of a new day waiting to unfold:)while the past moans a haunting melody, and the future beckons mysteriously.
ReplyDeleteYuriy: And at midnight when nils flash on the clock you are in the freezing stand-by state expecting 00:01 to start and have the new records of the new day. 01 of October
ReplyDelete...'in the freezing stand-by state' OR a teasing open gate:)
ReplyDeleteYuriy: I love these three - Teasing, Open, Gate. : ) TOG : )
ReplyDeleteYuriy:...and we GOT it. :)
ReplyDelete