Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
Whither old sycamores of my mother's childhood;
how long since they cut down our elm?
Whither cold tears I spilled hidden in the closet;
how vast the regrets I still shed?
Whither warm loaves of bread my grandmother baked;
how long can fragrances linger?
Whither new memories I can never remember;
how do those sycamores persist?
© Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.312] (17.januar.2022)
8 lines 12/8 with anaphora.