Post by oskar345 on Apr 23, 2016 8:42:54 GMT 1
The gift of Rocks
It is a lovely warm forenoon I`m walking around
just outside the village the wayside and filed are
full of flowers in greenness this will not last long
and heat will turn the landscape into yellowish
dejection and the foliage on trees will lose the
brilliance, what remains are stones
a landscape littered with rocks, houses are made
of stone as are fences picked up from the earth
and made into homes and enclosures backbreaking
work but the builders didn`t have watches; how
beautiful water from the well must have tasted. There
are many shades of grey I prefer the dark ones,
where I grew up the landscape was littered with dark
rocks, come to think of it I didn`t move far, yet there
is something safe about stones and boulders they
will not leave tomorrow as my youth did.
It is a lovely warm forenoon I`m walking around
just outside the village the wayside and filed are
full of flowers in greenness this will not last long
and heat will turn the landscape into yellowish
dejection and the foliage on trees will lose the
brilliance, what remains are stones
a landscape littered with rocks, houses are made
of stone as are fences picked up from the earth
and made into homes and enclosures backbreaking
work but the builders didn`t have watches; how
beautiful water from the well must have tasted. There
are many shades of grey I prefer the dark ones,
where I grew up the landscape was littered with dark
rocks, come to think of it I didn`t move far, yet there
is something safe about stones and boulders they
will not leave tomorrow as my youth did.