2011/11/08

What springs in the memory

Water, water from where did you flow?
And when you spilled over
Pray, where did you go?
.
So cold and so clear
On the warmest of days
Freezing my fingers
Enchanting my gaze
.
Even in winter
The spring never ceased
The bowl filled with ice
And the beauty increased
.
My father stopped here
And all those before him
After play cooling splashing
'Till soaked to the skin
.
Do you still exist
In that village so far
Calling young boys
To catch frogs in a jar?
.
I wish I were there
With a grandson or two
Telling them all
I remember of you
.
Water, water from where did you flow?
And when you spilled over
Pray, where did you go?



6 comments:

Audrey said...

And what secrets did the water take with it? I think that perhaps a visit with a couple of grandsons may be in order, thereby continuing the fond memories and inspiring the young ones to imagine and dream.

She Writes said...

What is it about water that makes us nostalgic? I have written of it a few times from different angles, but always it carries memories just beneath the surface. It does enchant us. I love it frozen and I enjoy frogs in it to this day :).

short poems said...

Beautiful...I love the passage and the poem :)

The Gooseberry Garden said...

elegant,
keep these coming.

The Gooseberry Garden said...

welcome sharing a random or relevant poetry with us today.

:)

hope to see you in.

nouvelles couleurs - vienna atelier said...

very nice foto and intresting words, like a lot

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