·
In the cold conscious hunger of my days
my mind brimming with memories:
your footsteps
the brush of your hand
the sleepy lullaby of your love
Who am I if there is only me and no you -
just a possibility that fades like a wind
a seed sitting on stone unable to root
·
poem ~ © 2011, Jamie Dedes, all rights reserved
photo credit ~ Anna Cervova, Public Domain Pictures.net
dreaming yesterday’s spring
in the hill country of his youth
remembering summers of peace
times when he thought
life was a forever thing and
and the world lay before him
a green field waiting harvest
·
now beside the cup, his hand
so withered and so old he
he hardly recognized it as his own
until his gaze
found her playful smile
he felt spring again then
in the hazel warmth of her eyes
the green-field of her love
each day a harvest of hope
·
MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR. (1929 -1968),
American Clergyman, Activist, and Leader of the Civil Rights Movement
“Peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek, but a means by which we arrive at that goal.”
♥
Sunday Writers’ Roundup will return next week.
