Sunday, 5 July 2015

Dreams of a Summer

Warmth bids adieu to my flesh; my strong bones turn to dust,
While I unbecome steadily, becoming the earth’s crust,
I hear with ears no longer mine, with long dead eyes I see,
Creation flourishing from my rot, as my loved ones grieve for me,
Trees take root upon my skin, growing tall and strong,
The birds take refuge in their leaves, singing a merry song,
But cries by my gravestone haunt me still, my presence how they miss,
Comfort them I wish to do, I wish to tell them this:
When the last winter winds die, when the first spring bloom peeks,
When waterfalls once again quench all thirsty creeks,
As sunflower blossoms thaw from under the carpet of snow,
The world shall live again, I promise, it shall brim and flow,
And in its rebirth, I shall see my rise,
The fruits of my labour, the sum of my life,
All this and more, I would have them know,
‘Tis time to move on, to let me go,                                              
For I’ve walked the miles that I was meant to tread,
And I wore some faces and some I shed,
I’ve kept my promises and earned my keep,

‘Tis time to let me rest now, time to let me sleep...

Note: This is a dedication to Robert Frost, an eminent poet whose simplistic style of poetry often held an extremely profound meaning. The latest offering is inspired by Robert Frost's Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening, whose lines have often provided comfort and strength to many in their time of need. This poem first appeared in the October issue of Telegram.

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