Child, how do I tell you
Of the wonders that were;
Your landscapes are grey,
Your horizons a blur.
How do I tell you of the trees?
That danced when caressed by the breeze,
If you have never touched the wind.
How do I tell you of these.
Child, how do I describe the grass,
The field, the forest, the stream,
All I have seen and has past
To one who has never known green.
And if you saw the world that was
Would it cause you to despair?
Beauty is the soul's expression
And hope will make repair.
R.J.W.J, 1989
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Lost Time
PoetryA collection of poems on or related to time, loss, death, hope ... written in my youth between 1988-1992. R.J.W.J
