Long Ago
Long ago, I could see the trees,
and the birds flying on high.
The moon so soft and bright,
shining against a star studded sky.
The river flowing ever so gently,
no turmoil in its flow.
I could see the beauty of a rose,
or a freshly falling snow.
Long ago, music was the enchantment,
of wordsand stories untold.
I could feel emotions,savor memories,
that I could later hold.
I could cradle a crying child,
and sooth its aching pain.
Smell the freshness in the air,
after a newly fallen rain.
I could touch the wind,
nestle in its cool, soft breeze.
And long ago,
I could make a sculptor in the ice,
as I watched it slowly freeze.
Ah sweet life. What things I have seen,
in those times of past.
But all these things have passed me by,
they just couldn't last.
They have gone like age itself,
forever into another time and place.
And now I too, am just a memory,
like an old familiar face.
Life has worked on me,
it has taken its mighty toll.
and I, like life's precious memories,
am a thing of long ago.
Copyright © James Chenevert | Year Posted 2011
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