I walk at evening all alone

Remembering days and years long gone

And the shapes of darkness brush my soul

Like pages from an open scroll.

In memory, then, I return

Foraging hungrily to discern

Elusive sensations once so real

Which now escape my need to feel.

A misty light plays hide-and seek

Criss-crossing my path in soft mystique

Like blurred images the past, long gone

Whispers softly ‘not alone.’

1 thought on “Legacy

  1. Angela Oden



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