The Promenade

The rocks, the stones remain untouched
The years gone past have made them last
The brook still runs down slopes so steep
Where rays break through and flowers bloom.

I walked right through and paused a while
I heard lost laughter that once I shared
The forest held in whispers caught
The love I shared not long ago.

The brooks they danced and sang of life
The cycle once of life and death
Of passion lived that does create
But died in dreams that never came.

Alone I walk this mountain’s path
With tears that fall and touch the stones
I leave my mark again I dare
Become as one with nature’s love.

August 1997