The Whispering Wind

The wind whispers through the pines,
hushed by moments held in time,
and by the corner near the clearing
lay drifts of snow on a gravestone dreary.
Late Decembers icy fingers,
grip the heart, and memories linger,
of loved ones from so long ago
like little angels in the snow.
And as the clouds drift slowly by,
there seems to be no reason why,
though the years can’t be the same,
while tears follow your sweet name.
Still, the wind whispers in the pines
and my heart, forever lost in time.

" Lionheart
~

Lion, so good to see your name and a new poem, albeit a sad one. You have captured, with your excellent choice of words, the very essence of gray, chill sorrow. The sadness pierces the heart and seeps deeply into the bones, just like the cold December wind.

My thoughts are with you, dear friend. May the warm, funny, sweet memories of those no longer with you help somewhat to thaw those icy fingers 'round your heart.

~~flutter~~

Lion, my dear friend, this is a truly beautiful expression of sorrow. Such sorrow it gave me shivers. I echo Flutters sentiments in hopes that fond memory will warm your heart.

Babs

Like the snow my friend, life comes and goes it’s the memories that linger.
Frolic in them hold them as long as you can less they fade like the snow.

Jack

You paint the pain so beautifully. Wonderfully written...

You know? The title reminded me of one of my favourite books The Wind in the Willows... I hope some of the joy and frolic of those childhood winds whispers to your heart too. Take care.