2/4/13

Mourner
By Harry Noussias


if time is such a moving thing
with all above and below quickly fading
then why do these memories remain
and never seem to go away
sometimes when I’m just standing here
staring aimlessly into the air
not wanting to think of anything at all
that’s when those thoughts come floating in
and then again they begin
surrounding me with things I cannot hold
if I could just feel your hand in mine
or share the twilight’s colorful sky
or gaze into your sparkling eyes
embracing recollections
quiet days
gentle nights
with you
now there is only a name etched in stone
a place to bring flowers to
so I lay a single daffodil
and shadow my eyes from the sun above the hill
and I walk away
holding back not wanting to think at all
setting my feet before me
on the green grass beneath me
walking between the silent rows of stone
wondering why such pleasant memories bring so many tears
if time is such a moving thing


- - -
I have been a writer for several years. Most of my efforts have been in the nonfiction area. It is not very exciting to be sure, but the money is good. I thought I might try my hand at something different, something a bit more amusing with a touch on the romantic side.