October 29, 2010


The winds of time,
They blow softly now,
Leaving peace with this place.
Rays of sun shine down,
Casting beauty for thee.
The beating of wings,
Heard softly here.
A hummingbird flickers near.
The colors attracting.
The secrets perfuming.
A simple eye cannot contain.
The ear, twice, cannot only hear.
This beauty is before one.
It cannot be captured,
And it cannot live forever.
As quick as the beating wings,
It will cease to exist.
The wings stop beating,
The hummingbird is gone.
Colors dying,
And scents fading now.
The season is changing.
Beauty is hidden,
But it will return in time,
For nothing is ever truly gone.
Kept in memory,
One can't hold the beauty,
But they can keep the image for peace.
The winds of time,
They blow softly now,
Leaving solace with this place.

This is a piece I wrote as a writing exercise after looking at a photo. What feeling do you get when reading this?

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