Lament by shirehobbit
Leaves fall to the ground and I remember;
The wind blows, its story left untold.
Yet I remain, alas, I alone remember
The Ages of this forest’s splendor-gold.
In these trees, the memory let lingers,
Though old, they do not easily forget.
For all that has been lost, there is deep sorrow;
Of those to tell the tale but I am left.
1 Comment
*applause* Nicely done. I would like to see it a bit longer, but then again, all of my poems are really short, too. So who am I to talk? The poem has a nice musical quality to it, which is hard to grasp sometimes. Lovely!