The Daily Page

The cord of life is broken
by a mistermeanered fact.
Dark clouds of heaven,
curtain the sunshine back,
vigilance is nowhere,
yet everywhere unseen.
Eyes search for guidance,
to explain things they’ve seen.

Flowers of the autumn
petals faded begin to fall,
like hearts of parted lovers,
hurt by the parting call.
Reasons for such pain,
remains a mystery,
we seek to explain,
but never the joys of meeting again.

Lingering shadows from a staircase
where discarded dreams mount,
endless hours of searches
for the youth gaining fount.
Lines of every ceasing age
tarnish the daily page,
as we wonder
if it will ever be read.

by David Harris

Comments (2)

I like your 79's: O) ......ditto to Marci....and nice rhthym on this one
Dear David, your usage of metaphors in here is astounding and so right on...An excellent write [why doesn't that surprise me? ] marci.xo