by Sherri Coulter

Created on: August 26, 2010

              Our Gray Mist of Time

Crickets chirping, change is round the way.

        Bend the brow, break the back

               choosing not to stay.

Wheels keep churning, ever yearning.

Melody transforming, drama never spent.

     Staying, not part of the learning.

Warp in time, grown accustomed to your mind,

        standing in my rain, your shadow

             always my pleasure to find.

In future darkness, nestled near and dear,

            I will seek your shadow,

                  tho it not be here.

And when, in minds' eye, whispers the wind,

             You may see my light,

                 and come again.

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