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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required ESTHER ARBUTHNOT--1875 From Her Ancient Photograph While the rain is falling gently on the roof it makes the sound, of a time that's long forgotten, though it seems to hang around, I can hear you breathing lightly from an Irish dream I've known, it has come to Pennsylvania where you've found me here alone. All the way from County Down, you were a dream I had to find, though so long you were forgotten, you were always on my mind. In your photograph your eyes are reaching out, perhaps for me, I can feel you when I see you, but I never really see. It's made me wonder if your dream had ever made your heart to scream? In your Book of Shadows, reading is another person's sin, but you open it to anyone who's wanting to come in. There's a candle always burning in my window late at night, and I'd love you in a moment, but that wouldn't make it right. It's made your photograph sureal in warming only I can feel. Can you hear the raindrops falling? County Down's so far away, or perhaps it's just forgotten, like a dreary Irish day, I can feel it when you're smiling, in the Heaven of your eyes, love is gone and you've been dying, and it's then I realize, you have found it all in Heaven, and it's such a part of you, all the sadness you've been living in this life will have to do. it's an Irish kind of feeling, to be dying when you're dead, and a lot of Irish whiskey only lightens up my head. It's made me think I need your tears that have to flow for years and years. © ron wilson aka Ron Arbuthnot aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
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