Old Places
For Uncle Virgil
Even here there is a sound like the rushing of wind
all day long from the freeway that wasn't there
when we were young;
when sound was gentle, settling around us
like a whisper of butterfly wings.
They say there is nearly no place on earth
where the sound of rushing to and fro is absent,
where listening to rain fall at twilight
is the sound of old places in summer.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
