I cannot see the bottom
To skip a stone along the top
Remember things forgotten.
I'm sure the color must be blue
Of that I have no doubt
Yet well I cannot see it
The moon has just come out
Tall trees around me
Rustle with the wind
The air is chilling quickly
I'm sure I must go in.
Still I cannot leave this place
I must relive the past
For here one recalls those things
The lot that they were cast.
Now everything is coming back
The good and the sad
Reproach not, I tell myself
For you were just a lad.
Yet there remains a sadness
For chances that were missed
But though the ghosts are strong in me
Time is shrouded by a mist.
So now it's time to let them go
To embrace what lies ahead
For though the leaves will surely fall
The trees still take their breath.
© 2010 Fredrick Stevens Poetry and Photography All Rights Reserved.
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