Forest Path.

by Brian McDonald.

In my time,

All there was

Over the falls,

Was a log

*

That was my time;

Cries and calls

That echoed in

The hollow wood

Now re-echo:

Silent,

In remembrances.

*

Now I see

A cloudscape,

Half a century old;

Beyond the reach of eyes:

Rock, softened by moss

And memory.

The blind stream,

And like artless youth

In das Flegeljahre,

Will not be stayed.

*

When was their

Last time at the falls?

When was the last

Soft touch of hands

In that place?

They did not know then;

They cannot know now.

But they left

Sweet memories

Undefaced by time.

Copyright Brian McDonald 2012 to 2023.

Sadly Brian passed away in December 2021.