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On a Hill
SimonWaldram
Date:
September 29, 2006 @ 7:19 AM
Like the knowing flicker of sun in ice
I remember being four years old
Sat atop a hill, my mountain of sleeping dreams
With a blank canvas of snow under my sled
Laughter fell in endless unseen clusters
Each one unique to an undiscerning ear
They paused to rest on my face. Cool and warm
Before evaporating into the shapeless river of my
being
In this, my finest hour, I saw no perfection
Because I understood nothing else
I look down in wonder and was pushed
Screaming with joy into the valley below
But I lost something on the way down
And I never made it to the top again
I chase my dreams knowing I already passed them by
On a hill when I was four
Israfel
Date:
September 29, 2006 @ 10:46 AM
Such beautiful imagery in such a poignant poem.
That recognition of loss of innocence and dreams.
Nicely written, Simon!
Nefy
Date:
September 30, 2006 @ 5:09 PM
:claps:
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