Not long in memory will survive
these golden scenes and the peace
they in mind evoke now;
when the shimmering fields of snow
are running brooks, singing among
the dead grass of a summer long past,
not an image of this will linger -
older memories, growing thick and
strong, alluring and bitter in loss,
enduring, will then be re-unveiled
by light like this glimmering
on these same ridges and hills.
06.04.2022
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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