Life


The sun rises on a new day with warmth and golden
hue.
Life changes, ebbs of time, woven from yesterday
and today.
Pain, which was felt, is almost a fleeting moment
in time almost forgotten.
The leaves change from green to brown and wither
drawing close upon itself as if taking its last sleep.
Winds blow quitely thru the trees rustling and
whispering secrets not heard by human ears.
Ones' death is a birth of new life, fresh, clean,
unaware.
Life is a thread ever weaving upon itself touching
lightly, leaving imprints of the past on the
present.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem