Leaves
A dry leaf scrapes.
You have no memory of that day.
And I am somewhere
In between now...
And the day we gathered leaves.
I feel I have aged,
Perhaps inside,
And what joins us now is vague
Is it stone floors,
Dry leaves
Or the bitter years
It took to realize
You have no memory of that day?
Hi @johnjgeddes! This is just to let you know that...
You got SNEKKED!
Because we love your post!!
You Got Snekked is a curation project!
We aim to find good content, share a happy moment, & some visibility. Your post got our upvote, and we will feature your post and possibly an image from it in our 27th curation compilation if you don't mind! If you don't want to be featured, please let us know!
You can find us on Discord -:
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Thanks, appreciate the encouragement - Sorry, I almost missed your reply - I was just checking the post replies
El tiempo que todo lo marchita, lo cubre, lo acaba. No hay elemento más indicador del paso del tiempo que las hojas, @johnjgeddes. Tan verdes y enteras en su comienzo, tan marchita y marrón al final. Se caen las hojas con el tiempo, mueren, desaparecen. La voz lírica utiliza las hojas no solo para hablar del tiempo, también para hablar de distancias y transformaciones. Esa pregunta final nos da la certeza que se dirige a alguien que ha olvidado el comienzo, que no tiene memoria!! Y como hojas caemos
caemos
caemos
caemos
Bonita noche!
Gracias, Nancy, y como de costumbre, vas al meollo del asunto. El sueño se marchita y no solo se caen las hojas, sino que los recuerdos que juntamos junto con ellos se marchitan también y otras personas caen en nuestra estimación de ellos.
What a beautiful combination! Even the way you presented your poems make for nice imagery!
Thank you!
Very Nice Poetry.
thanks
This post has received a 12.07 % upvote from @booster thanks to: @johnjgeddes.
lines are really nice
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