There's the one who stays
with the legacy of a life
whispered in a glance .
We are only the tenants
of our memories
in those little things
that smell lavender
hanging over funerals...
Faded bouquet on the sentiment
of a yellowed sepia...
When noon no longer rings
at the mailman's crossing ,
the dog's bowl empty
and the canaries have donned
their night bird garb ...
We fall asleep in the other's void
like echo of a fading voice
evening chamomile is just a page of history...
This search for a few fixed habbits
in the little crosses of the diary ...
'' Where are you my dear ?''
'' Your green umbrella always accompanies me
to celebrate your marble birthday ! ''
'' I won't forget this little cross ! ''
'' Sometime I think ...one morning,
I'd like to be in summer ...And you'll come back ! ''
Telling me :
'' I am here my dear ! "
'' lets frolic in our newfound youth ! ''
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 12th, 2024 03:25
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments3
Memory is the only paradise from which we cannot be banished.
Sometimes also the garden of hell...
I agree with you.
Well written Lorenz this has a bit of a haunting feel to it and a sense of longing. Lovely
I feel this universal feeling of loss when listening to the ''Lacrymosa'' In Mozart's requiem.
It is very moving. I often wonder what it would’ve been like. Had he been able to finish it. In fact, most agree that it was only the very first few stances that he wrote.
And the remains of the genius thrown into the mass grave !
Excellent
Thank you tony !
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