When There is No One Left...
What will it be like, I wonder,
When there is no one left to care,
No one to say, I love you,
No one left to hug,
Or laugh, or cry with me?
Will the stars no longer twinkle?
Will the moon forever wane?
Will the tides no longer rise
Or fall,
When there is no one left to care?
Will the rain no longer nourish?
Will the grain no longer grow?
Will the wind no longer blow
The clouds away,
When there is no one left to say, I love you?
Will lightning no longer dance across the evening sky?
Will the breeze no longer cool midsummer's heat?
Will water no longer quench the thirst?
Will food no longer satisfy,
When there is no one left to laugh with me?
Will roses no longer share their fragrance
With those who pass my garden gate?
Will robins no longer sing their song
From the sanctuary of my old, gnarled, but friendly Oak,
When there is no one left to cry with me?
What will it be like, I wonder,
When there is no one left to care?
No one to say I love you?
No one left to hug
Or laugh or cry with me.
Vi
©May 30, 2005
posted by Vi Jones @ 9:30 AM
5 comments
The 
5 Comments:
Vi,
You'd be surprised where the ' someones' come from who do the remembering.
But keep in mind, someone is always left. It's just not always obvious to us.
Anita Marie
This really hit a chord Vi. I often find myself wondering the same thing. I hope Anita is right and that the void has a way of filling itself.
Dearest Vi ~ I know the feeling of having poetry that has to come. Poetry that isn’t always happy, it is sometimes dark and sometimes questioning and yearning. I could say, as someone looking at this from the outside, that it is something that will never happen. You are too much of love to ever be left alone without it. But I am also aware of the deep truth of feeling and heart that this piece portrays and know they are genuine thoughts. It brought to my mind a lyric from - goodness, I think it’s the Beach Boys - nevertheless, it has always made much sense to me. “If you should ever leave me, life would still go on believe me, the world could show nothing to me, so what good would living do me?”
Vi, you have written several poems lately that are so very thoughtful and acutely observant of the inner human condition. The poem about the bristlecone, while being about a tree, is also one of these. There is not so much difference between us and our cousins-of-the-earth after all.
Violet, this reminded me so much of the beautiful song, The Last Rose of Summer that I had to go and listen to it. It is hauntingly lovely.
Makes me cry, but hey we are alive, we feel!
Stay passionate Vi!
Love Tren
Your poem touched me deeply Vi, but do you really believe that they ever really stop loving us, or sharing our tears? I lost my dad over 20 years ago but as I drive down a straight stretch of road, sun shining, and my heart in the right, place my dad takes me by the arm and we dance above the golden grain and I know that he is real. Jane
Post a Comment
<< Home