scrapingthesun
11-26-2008, 07:35 PM
I trudge through five miles of inch thick snow
To lay a rose under a bare oak tree
And trace carvings of names I used to know;
Names of loved ones, now gone and lost to me.
Ev'ry winter I make this lone journey,
Admiring the scene along the way:
The snowflakes dance toward the ground, softly
Yet are oft caught by the limbs of this grave,
(Gravestone or tree trunk; they hold the same place
Between death and the life it makes lonely)
But some snow sinks beneath the tree limbs' lace.
Then how well the cold has a hold of me
A keen reminder of the loves I've lost
So many years ago; among the frost
Not my best, but it's my latest.
To lay a rose under a bare oak tree
And trace carvings of names I used to know;
Names of loved ones, now gone and lost to me.
Ev'ry winter I make this lone journey,
Admiring the scene along the way:
The snowflakes dance toward the ground, softly
Yet are oft caught by the limbs of this grave,
(Gravestone or tree trunk; they hold the same place
Between death and the life it makes lonely)
But some snow sinks beneath the tree limbs' lace.
Then how well the cold has a hold of me
A keen reminder of the loves I've lost
So many years ago; among the frost
Not my best, but it's my latest.