The Late Summer’s Whispering
Time is a healer for it allows awakenings and reflections’,
Forgotten times, delicacies, intimacies and echoes of yesterday,
Memories dancing hauntingly like tiny shards of pebble dashing,
Against your minds’ eye, time travellers searching endlessly,
Dark sultry, sensual sexualities and sins on the winds of time,
Lingering desires lusting after tomorrow’s scents,
Slip streams of the rhythmically pulsating subconscious mind,
Triggering the moments of a thousand closing sunsets,
Twas the golden shadows of the grass swaying silently,
Stimulating energies of a life pattern still unfurling,
Late summer whisperings, capturing me so delightfully,
Taking me back to secret gardens and exotic fruits swirling,
Where does the mind drift to when enveloped in colour?
Burnt wild oranges and icy veins of hot fire,
The vibrancies of life, honeys of tomorrow, no longer duller,
Are the journeys and stirrings of pastures anew here for sure?
Floating days of obscurity, moons and sunrises,
The search for ones’ identity and glimmers of happiness,
Our minds tracing back footsteps on a futuristic horizon,
Sensing with clarity the emergence of 21st century butterflies,
An ageless hungering, heart beats and a thundering,
The learning curve of past lives, and energies of a hazy mind,
Drifting into musical incantations and long fully yearning,
Of tripping the light fantastical, the spawning of life again a sign,
It’s strange how as we age, we remember our yesterdays,
From a simplicity such as a perfumed scent in the air,
Lingering long enough to allow the mind the gentle memory,
And reminding us of who we are and where.
A Guy Called Bloke and K9 Doodlepip!