Calling

In the wet and sullen leaf-fall

my darkness is a violin;

the days of far-off melody call

my lonely highways deep within.

I see the seagull soar in harmony

when all the windswept skies return;

I hear again my golden symphony,

the sweet refrain of dreams that yearn.

The hills cry out with distant voices

and vistas sigh the miles I tread;

but I am chained to binding choices,

deep ruts of love and daily bread.

Beautiful:)

Many thanks, Sinnaminsun - the old hills still call from time to time...Rgds., Alan.

beautiful indeed, with an underlying sadness.

-----
Life is what happens while you wait for great things.

Life is what happens while you wait for great things.

Many thanks, Shannon - it's that time of the wet and sullen leaf-fall again but still no escaping....Rgds., Alan.

Menu

User login

Member Pages »

See also

Monkeys: There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.