Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
| October Blues Slow and low — I moan a serenade, sung in a minor key in hesitation, with hope, that the death between us are mere embers, sleeping, awaiting our touch. I warm my fingers by their glow, look around yet know — like the weary leaves, you left — for good — long ago. © Kåre Enga (7.april.2025) [182.16] 9 lines 122.686 |