Surrounded by trees… the same, old clearing.
Diving in the pictures to which I still cling.
I see them passing by. None of them is new.
This is where my love once arose and grew
But once is over – and tears now flow.
A crow is chanting. The same, old crow?
I listen to the leaves rustling in the breeze.
Though calming, there’s no hand to squeeze,
No eternal flame burning, keeping alive our bond.
All that’s left for me is the consistent clearing’s pond,
Reflecting the images of what should have been stories…
Long lasting stories… Yet they are mere memories…
Terrified – that they might vanish – I come and hide
To relive the pictures and the feelings from inside.
I come to play hide and seek in my own head,
Where feelings dead are alive and the reality is dead.
The crow keeps chanting, like the words somewhen spoken
Reminding me of the world I lost… my dream is broken.
MY ppost for today’s challenge of „Wirting 101“;
Writing101, Day2 „A Room with a View“
There’s a second poem written in German which I called „Ein Ort der Erinnerung“. I wrote it some time ago and referred to the same place… Well… this clearing has been important to me ever since…