Her Voice
a poem by Pete Marshall
Her voice now fades, her distant beat
that rides the mists of ancient time
where paths once weaved the spinners yarn
beyond the yews & creeping vines
Its cold again, these biting winds
that blow through gaps in wooden boards
that rattle bones in withered skin
then grasps at hearts with icy claws
The sparkles flow down hollow cheeks
as children wait, she stands alone
beneath the swaying , barren trees
where life is etched on hardened stone
Where hope is lost this winters eve
beyond the yews & creeping vines
on paths that lead where none will roam
bereft upon the mists of time
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A little poem and warm Christmas wishes to you all
image courtesy wikipedia
4 comments:
this season it is def cold...in light of news of atrocities around the world...hopefully we can come together with those we love and keep some warmth to it....been far too long my friend...it is good to read your words...and i hope that life is finding you in better and better places...
With tragedies happening more & more often, and this weather... the gritty feel of this write mimics my heart at the moment...
And long time no read buddy hope you + fam are well.
Good to see a Pete Marshall poem again.
This poem certainly echoes my feelings at the moment too. So well written. I hope things are looking up for you these days, Pete. I wish you a happy Christmas.
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