Your hand is beyond all touch.
Your eyes, they will never dance again.
Oh, my soul, it does not recover,
Your soul I no longer discover.
The trees, they wave their goodbyes to the passing storm,
They wave their goodbyes to the receding dawn.
But I…I say my goodbyes to the thorns,
To the thorns, as I mourn.
What do you get for a one dollar contribution? My gratitude.
If you enjoyed the post, you can help me keeping blogging along with just a one dollar contribution. You can contribute more by increasing the quantity — each increase by 1 is an additional dollar. Thanks for your support in this blog-eat-blog world.
I am a voracious reader and also enjoy writing. I often have a very different point of view than the popular one. I do see value in debate, and thought it might add to the public debate on controversial issues if I were to express my contrarian opinions. I also started keeping my poems recently (I've written little pieces my whole adult life but never kept any); and I've been a photographer now for over 25 years. So I will be adding an occasional poem and hopefully interesting photograph to the blog along the way, just to spice things up.
View all posts by Henry Barnard