"Even Song..."

tilting the nights...

 

"Even Song..."

 

Windmills whisper as their arms turn and turn

 

"I'm here... I await... Return...  Please ...remember me..."

 

...and the days pass - months, years - life echoes

and echoes, notes grow and flow

and the wind carries each note of heart's song...

 

...and inside...

 

I see you - arms stretched wide

turning and turning and laughing all the while

"London Bridge is falling down..."

til falling and the silence gathers tight

and the years carry the echoes near

nearer

nearer still ...til the laughings cease

and the mind returns from dreams soft chill.

 

Chris

Author's Note

feel free

Reviews

[J. J. Nightingale]

I was near inside a dream
And there love's voice
Like home
Was whispering
"I'm here... I await... Return... Please ...remember me..."

Dreams can be cruel, sad and so very real ..
Who's to say what is real, and what is not
I believe in the power of love

Jazz

[Chris]

good thoughts...

[J. J. Nightingale]

A beautiful write Chris, it will be with me all through my day, and hopefully into my evening ...

[SparrowSong]

Echoes of soft remembrance deep within a souls senses, lifetimes pass, but the notes of the heart song is heard by the one for which it is sung no matter how much time 'twixt and 'tween the last when eyes met.

This is hauntingly beautiful...

[Chris]

"...gardens behind our eyes..." as we walk the concrete jungle.

[Corset]

Inside a soul of love and friendship lives a windmill that turns without a wind, it spins to turn the healthy earth, knowing to love only takes one, but to twine takes two,
it is the mill that turns without the wind that makes a love unconditional.

[Chris]

The Cafe Series is partially posted here - I hope you'll visit some of the other portions as well.

[Ken Simm.]

Memories so ephemeral. Write so ethereal. Excellent.

[emmajoy]

' Windmills whisper as their arms turn and turn ~~ "I'm here... I await... Return... Please ...remember me..."

Sad as only a true poet can write sad .. and beautiful as only you could write this poem. Memories can be so painful.

[Emily B]

oh, pretty . . .

[olla]

I am not going to return from the dreams soft chill.. even in it's most frigid moment it is still warmer then the silence..