My Sunday poem … #24

My Sunday poem … #24

I wrote this while I was living near the New Forest in Hampshire. 

Song of the Forest Leaves

Are we the faded flags of glory past
Or early guests at Winter’s icy dance,
Or Summer’s orphans dressed in rags
All huddled now in ditch and dell.
Or are we perhaps the dreams of fallen heroes
Or the tears of fallen saints,
Or the prayers of silent troopers
Trudging Frontwards in the rain.
Or are we simply forests leaves
Consigned to play a part,
Each tumbling through eternity
Towards the central Heart ?

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14 responses to “My Sunday poem … #24

  1. Love this, Chris, deep thought of a Sunday morning, brunching with daughter and grandson in one of those hipster places that only ‘brunch’.

  2. This is lovely. Wonderful imagery.

  3. Whatever we are…. it is what we think we are. And in some way, we are all of it. I love that, Chris!

  4. Deep thought for Sunday brunch in hipster heaven with daughter and grandson.

  5. Lovely and i think we are forest leaves of the universe

  6. Deep and thoughtful love the pictures also, my favourite time of year. I like the idea and concept of your site, some interesting articles. Paul

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