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When Will They Return

 

How the trees have fallen.

When will they return?

A question answered

by the cutting blade

of the house that was

long since abandoned

to improve the prospect

when a new house rose

in place of what was

for another family

I have known well.

So clearly regretted,

though I have imagined

how it might be again,

an impossible come back

a return that is no more

that for ever is never,

even when saplings grow.

A death before dying

as the roots must wither,

when they went elsewhere,

like skeletons of memory,

there to remain many years,

and where shall the sparrows nest

if a sense of loss lingers….

as another spring approaches?

I speak of growing hope.

When young we may believe

that this is an eternity

in nature’s promise

of always being how things are

in the picture of reality

then they change without asking.

The colours, we see, soon fade.

Living becomes so unexpected,

I stand in silence,

subject to sudden movements

wondering where to go

when the earth shakes and cracks

as if the end of all has come

and we know no more….

of what we knew of here.