There she is ,
an  old  winding road ,
Staring  at me  through 
the eyes of  wisdom  ,
whispering the glory of days begone
and I let a tear escape ,
to mark a new beginning.

Sounds of a fading memory
haunt the rhythm 
of an unfinished  waltz.
And rising above the din,
I hum  a little prayer of hope.

Can I trust  time  
to guide and lead
my days of secret solitude?
Can I hold on to a dream 
while the night strays and wanders
and the world sleeps ?
Can I be the soul of the melody 
that strums the beat
for a heart that is withered?  
 Can I breathe life
into another and 
say ; “Look,
there she is,
the old winding road...”

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Poetry

Classic Collection

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