Sounds of The Past

Sometimes when I sit beneath the moon
and let my eyes wander slowly through the sky
lightly dancing on the glow from star to star;
sometimes when the breeze blows
softly against my cheek
I can still hear those night sounds from afar.

The sound of crickets singing Chopin
mixed with the distant chirp of frogs
drifting to my ears along the evening dew;
the echo of a whistle from a distant train
answered by a cow’s soft, lowly moo,
— all imprinted on my mem’ries in soft hues.

Sometimes I hear my childhood
in silent whispers from the past
floating on the gentle night-time air;
sometimes just a breath makes it seem real,
and I breathe, and sigh, and feel —
for one brief, tender moment, I am there.



august 2005
©Janet Reid




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