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A New Day

Blues For An Angel

Breeze of Constant Caressing

Broken Mirror

Early Visitor

Memories In the Dust




Post Festum



Return to Peace

The Leaf's Speach to the Wind

The Mystery







Memories in the Dust

 My age is a secret
but I am very very old,
and several are the faces,
steps an secrets
I carry in my longish memory

On my right side rests peacefully
the wide pastures,
where the cows used to graze.
On my left side stands
the house where once
a little girl lived.

I remember happily
the feeling of her bare feet
when she walked
in my dust and gravel.

I loved the sound
of whinning horses
and clattering hooves,
when she rode her bike
along the ditchside.

I remember the tickling
creak from her felt-boots,
when she singing walked
with the milk can
over my snow dressed hill.

I cry at the memory
of a braking car
and the girl's tears
in my grey dry dust,
when she found a beloved
soft four-footed friend,
still and cold,
at my one side.

My memory is longish
and rich.
I accommodate between east and west.
The one who looks for me
and listen carefully,
will find that my memory
is very very sharp.


  Copyright  2011  Maria Kimdal