Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Winter Past

Search me now and see me gently
idle into that soft green meadow
where the spring breeze is whispering softly
to the lazy rows of lush grass weaving
of an elusive past; but now the meaning
this wake-up call is singing is of a time to grow.

Look inside at the water barely ripple
moving slowly towards the outlying earth
to encompass the pond while the minute movements trickle
in remembrance; but at the moment
it is enough to have your energy spent
in circling the water and measuring its girth.

Be still, my heart, in peace and tranquil ease;
but stir not that dark memory.

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