If only we had met long ago
If fate had placed us
On the same journey
And our paths had crossed
If we had grown together
Sharing a lifetime
And making memories
Of our own, I wonder
Where were you all that time ago?
Back then when I was young
When I was a flower blossoming
A bud whose petals were unfolding
My face fresh with the beauty of youth
My life ahead of me, one of promise
To share in true happiness
Then you might look at me now with love
With eyes that still hold those memories
How sad that after our separate lives
And our opposite directions
That our paths should cross now
When it seems too late...
And you only see me now
At the end of my Summer days
When my beauty has faded, gone
Yet you still see the beauty of me
That is still within . . .
But you will find that is not enough
Time has taken away so much
And I could not bear to see
The disappointment
On your face
If we were to meet ...
Poem - Dianne Dawes
For dear C.B.
I have listened again to the beauty of the words of the song,
I have not turned my back on you.
6 comments:
What is beauty? A modest demeanour. Thou hast. A fair and gentle complexion. Thou hast. A humble observance in the presence of a gentle man. Thou hast. A comprehension of God's grand order and balance of affairs. Thou hast. Yet, thou sayest I might become disappointed somehow on sight. I think not. My heart is moved, always. What else attracted me in days previous? Nothing more. Nothing less. Yet, I must add, the days are drawing close. The opportune time has become of even more precious value. Each day has its own badness. Each day, too, a time of reflection. Goodness too. Of grasping with fingers and fine understanding. Quieten your heart. I understand your disturbing feelings. Note that in the natural world, there is no equivalence of such worry. The birds eat, indeed, fed from heaven in some manner and survive unto another day. Only in your beating heart, worry exists. You see, I'm not from an era that can be described easily. I have no favouritism of one person over another. I look first for truth. Humility, a close second. The quietness of the mild spirit of the one who walks silently in the Lord. Therein lies a lesson of some worth. Martha, concerned herself over the price of oil, much. Mary, though still much aware of the price of the same fine oil, pours it out of the bottle and strokes her fingers in the oil over a man's feet and for want of a cloth, uses her hair to dry the same. Two women, two different outlooks. That is how it is and that is how it will always be in this world. The one who evaluates carefully and values that which is present for a short, limited time. And a very limited time is what it is. You feel that warmth on your neck? From where do you think it came? And there. There on your back. I'm sitting behind you. Our backs pressed together. I am not holding you, though, am I? Just sitting there. You understand though, that I am not planning on leaving so suddenly and abruptly. I am just, well, alright, just sitting here on this bench, in this park, under quiet trees. Listening to your breath. A deep sigh in. Yes, I heard it. Stop fretting. Keep breathing. Stay alive. You are more precious to my soul than you realize. C.B.
Hello dear Dianne!
I'm so happy to see your posts again.
A beautiful poem and a wonderful picture.
Kisses and greetings from Poland.
Lucja
Thank you dear one for your kindness. I can only give you my words, my thoughts, my love from where I am. Please just stay there behind me, your back against mine. There on that bench in the park, beneath quiet trees, it sounds so beautiful.You are my comfort and my warmth.
Take care dear one, much love Dianne. X
Hello dear Lucja
Thank you for your sweet comment, it had been too long since I have expressed myself in my poems. The rose image is beautiful, I was fortunate to find it.
Kisses and greetings to you, your friend Dianne. xoxoxo. ♥️
Hello dianne,
Welcome back!Lovely poem. Good to read you again. I hope everything is fine with you.
Hugs,
Marisa
Hello Marisa,
Thank you for your lovely words. I don't know that I'm back for good, I wanted to write some poems for my dear friend. We will have to wait and see if I am inspired to write any more. I hope you and your husband and little girls are well. I am very tired and worn out from taking care of my son, I hope that life will get better.
Hugs, Dianne X
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