Monday, June 29, 2009

Time

The silver tarnishes.
The polished stone
goes grey.

Possessions
gather dust
and color fades
from memories
carefully built
over years
and across generations.

In the distance,
beyond the mountain,
the rain sparkles
in the sun.

I look
for a way
across.

4 comments:

TACParent said...

Keep your eyes on the distant mountain, where the rain sparkles in the sun, while you do your mundane work here. The mountain is your respite. It awaits you.

Dymphna said...

Thanks for the encouragement!

Linda S. Socha said...

What a wonderful poem and how true the words it embgraces
Linda

Dymphna said...

Thanks so much, Linda!

Poems © Gemma W. Wilson