I wish I did not live on borrowed breath,
that I had faith to face tomorrow’s death.
I wish when bones of mine the soil does smother,
that far beyond this life, there waits another.
I wish that I could hear the talking trees,
that I could catch their whispers on the breeze.
I wish my father had not died so young.
His death, when I was fourteen years, had stung!
I wish my son still spoke to me and shared
his wife and daughter, though I’m now grey-haired.
I wish that I could feel no guilt or shame,
stay stoically serene, always the same.
I wish I could compose like kindly Keats.
That when I’m old my poet’s heart still beats.
I wish I glowed with grace and golden gleaming:
like child, forever young, forever dreaming!
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 30th, 2022 10:17
- Comment from author about the poem: I wish!
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 8
- User favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet.
Offline)
Comments3
This is so emotional🥺 I hope that’s it isn’t too late for some of your wishes to come true!
Thank you, Judy
Lovely write Kevin. Carry those dreams into your waking life.
Many thanks.
I wish that I could hear the talking trees,
that I could catch their whispers on the breeze.
These two lines remind me of the Moody Blues song "Tuesday Afternoon".
all those you care for, you'll be with again.
If you live a good life, (which I'm sure you do) the guilt and shame will be outweighed by the pride in your heart.
As long as you still compose like you have been, your poet's heart will live forever. A fantastic write Kevin. 😉
Thank you, AP. Yeah, I've just listened to that Moody Blues track. Thanks for your continued support.
Your two lines about the talking trees made me think of the song.
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