Poetry

Aug. 26th, 2005 03:18 pm
numberland: Two cats on manual wheelchair, looking up a the camera (Default)
[personal profile] numberland
The Changing Seasons

The barren field, the empty barn,
the stagnant stream, a frozen pond,
the empty ground, the leafless tree,
the winter time when all lies dead.
The broken heart, the empty mind,
the body that moves without command.

The working plough, a white-washed wall,
the refreshing rain, the thawing ice,
the scattered seeds, the first new buds,
a hint of spring, the signs of growth.
A touch of life, the beating heart,
a smile which starts to tug at lips.

The growing plants, the crop brought in,
the bubbling brook, a leaping fish,
the greening lawn, the sweet new fruits,
the warmth of summer which fills the land.
A women who stands complete once more,
whose eyes look forward along the road.

Date: 2005-08-26 02:34 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cartesiandaemon.livejournal.com
Oh my God, I have a lump in my throat. That's the most touching and sad but seriously happy and optimistic poem I've heard for a while. *huuuug*

Date: 2005-08-26 02:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] numberland.livejournal.com
Thank you.

So it should...

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numberland: Two cats on manual wheelchair, looking up a the camera (Default)
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