March 11, 2013
By nat.a.lat GOLD, Manhattan, Kansas
nat.a.lat GOLD, Manhattan, Kansas
11 articles 13 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
“Perhaps I write for no one. Perhaps for the same person children are writing for when they scrawl their names in the snow.” - Margaret Atwood

Memories tell a story from before,

Of the days that stretched out long,
Of laughter that lasted eternally,

In the days before you were gone,

Can you hear?

The hardships run deep in the faces,

Of those plagued with loss,
Yet the trees carry the shadows,

Of a presence, gentle and soft,

Are you there?

A whisper that rides a gentle breeze,

The smile drawn by the sonnet of a dove,
A hand from the heart of the summer sun,

A hand that dries the tears from a stolen love,

Can you see?

The will is lost to pray for one more day,

The will to selfishly bring you to I,
To pray for the sun to warm your face,

For the moon to give chase to be in your sky,

Can you feel?

Luck, when the well has gone dry,

Love, when solitude creeps near,
Belief, when despair blocks the path,

Strength, when life’s plagued with fear,

Do you know?

Time has worn my longing to see you,

Wisdom has willed my eyes closed,
Heart and mind whisper slow secrets,

A soul that already knows,

Are you there?

With every morning breath, it is known,

Although you walk not beside me,
Your presence watches for the longing,

Bringing that which I need.


Your smile rests in the clouds,

Ask I no longer, now I know,

You are here.

The author's comments:
Written for my grandfather's birthday.

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