The Weeping
And so begins the weeping,
The weeping that comes in waves;
Waves that crash in evening tide
To begin the sorrows fade.
And yet in sorrow I sit,
Melancholy under night;
Night whose air reminds me still
That remembrance is the light.
And who shall be the teller,
The meter for this old song?
Sung in whispers meant for none,
Save for those who may belong.
On air and breeze cries carry,
Yet alone they reach the sea.
And I endure their telling
As the waves crash over me.
C.L.Baker©2013
Copyright © C.L. Baker | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment