The afternoon sun
casts silhouettes
reflecting upon the day
without sorrow or regrets
In the air hangs a whisper
of a far and distant time
of people and places
long left behind
Of roads untraveled
and paths unseen
of past and of future
of this time in between
In gentle repose
the sun vanishes from sight
gold bleeding into purple
then surrendering to night
But the whispers remain
these echos of time
of people and places
things left behind.
© 2012 Jennifer Mandell. All rights reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment