Touch of the Past (rewritten)

autumn’s gentle touch
veils
mournful paths (i walk),
metamorphoses
tears’ burdensome sting

rows upon rows ~
towering high, majestic
some small,
cracked and bruised
frail and broken

old, they whisper,
venerable,
earthen beds
monuments in time

names, embedded,
moss-accentuated ~
i greet their faces,
honor
the Long Gone
with beating heart
and open mind

oaks’ heavy boughs
pick my thoughts,
extract,
lift with ease, to join
trees’ misty heads ~
as if they weigh nothing

and in their company
i feel comforted,
for they know all ~
smile warmly,
never judge

and in their company
i find
my heart,
my voice,
my sweet solitude.

__________________________________________________
… much gratitude to the Iron Poets. You know who you are.

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