A silent thought
Locked in mind
Over many years
Trapped in time
The creaking bough
Of an aging tree
Breaks the spell
Of its mystery.
Trickling sunshine
Through the leaves
To the knotted bench
Where once we dreamed
A hazy day
Of Summer sun
Distant past
Worries none.
Now that thought
Released again
Set free to roam
In managed pain
An old man with
A dampened eye
Now gently smiles
No more to cry.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Online) - Published: May 30th, 2026 04:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Online)
Comments1
We never listen enough to the stories of the old benches...
they have a lot to say, thanks for read
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