Short Windle Poems

Time stands immortal our lives being finite,

Consumed in the fire of lost years.

Now gone the independence of youth,

We could not wait to grow up,

Now wiser ravaged by the turmoil’s of life.
 
At times fame and adulation,

And at others left licking our wounds.

Moments like us soon to return to dust,

Blown away in the winds of time.

© N Windle...

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Chase not what was autumn time,
Its vibrant colors that had once adorned.
Now fades away as the winter mourns.
But to savour thoughts like a fine old wine.

Across valley deep over moors and hill,
The Norse wind on his steed doth roar.
Through nook and cranny and frame of door,
With breath of ice like steel.

Ice maid for you enchant us so,
As you lay your cloak of winter down.
Across sleepy hamlets and the bustling towns,
Vestige remnants of the year now go.

© N Windle 2009...

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