Softly
Without a care
A Leaf in breeze
Upon the air
A gentle flight
Accepted, free
In natures hands
Lifes decree.
The cobbled road
That winds its way
Its hidden memory
Drenched in day
Its harsh and stubborn
Aging heights
Its granite breath
Its many sights.
Are but shadows
That come to pass
In fading light
And nights trepass
To return once more
To haunt the day
Its well bruised shins
Of skin and clay.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: May 27th, 2026 03:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 33
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments4
I love this poem and its cadence with marching flavor to it. It ends in rhyme that solidifies the finality of it. Well worded it gives a feel of earthiness. Nicely done Norman and a fave
most kind, thanking you much appreciate
You are most welcome Norman
Good write N.
thanking you always much appreciated
The decree was not fulfilled: 'Thou shalt send a bus at [insert time]'. lol.
lol
Norman, “Its granite breath” is such a fantastic phrase. It gives the cobbled road an ancient, living presence...as though the landscape itself carries memory and endurance inside it. That image stayed with me throughout the rest of the poem. Wonderful write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
you are most kind, always much appreciated thanking you
Fine words, I see those bruises as shadows in the days of our lives Norman.
Andy
thanks for read, appreciated as always
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