Weeping Song

There is an ancient tune, as old as the wandering moon. It floats on gentle breeze, of a woman weeping. It moans softly through the trees and haunts you when you dream. Her tears are like a gentle stream, of lost lullabies she will never sing. It whispers faintly in the rain emptiness of arms that never fade. Death and loss is all that pervade on her nightly serenade. That I have to post this upsets me: My poems are copyright. I am sharing my poems for you to read not for you to post willy-nilly to a website, in your newsletter or anywhere else with out my permission. I am available, leave me a message. Especially to those who change the name of my poem and not give proper credit. You should be ashamed!