Like the sound of a whisper
When we were young the water came always down,
Down from those dark clouds,
But now they don’t come from the clouds,
But from my eyes.
My eyes, as dark as they were,
Were they crying.
Crying like the sound of a whisper,
To the sound of lightning.
Hearing a sound at the background,
The background from my eyes.
There were people entering the room,
That was sealed in a depression.
The depression came from something,
We all do once the time has come,
But when the time has come,
There is no turning back.
There is no back when it happens,
But there will always be you,
You will always be remembered,
In our hearts.
© Copyright Photowriter
Ingezonden door
Photowriter
Geplaatst op
12-04-2010
Over dit gedicht
een eerbetoon aan mijn overleden oma