Sometimes I remember you, and others not
You lie like a half forgotten rock, faint on the horizon
Half mirage and half reality
Intertwined like wreaths of smoke and fire
Connected thus I peer through aeons' mists
And on occasion see the strands
And all their fateful twists.

And yes, as hazy autumn casts its spell of dusk
upon the land that gives our lives, our souls,
The dramas of our many times and loves unfold.
And though the leaves, now brown and gold, will fall,
New leaves will grow in spring
And we'll be part of both
Decay and new life all.

Copyright David E. Bramley 2003.10

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