In memory, we walk;
smiling, hand in hand.
The past was the place we fell in love.
Yet now, you lie,
unmoving.
I hold your hand.
The present is a time of fear.
And then you're gone.
The future holds only darkness.
YOU ARE READING
The Tree of Dreams
PoetryRandom poetry and the occasional drabble or dribble of other short random thought from the depths my somewhat bemused brain, or possibly Brian if the schizophrenic misspelt pseudo entity that lives up there is up to his old tricks... poems from the...
