|
Ancient MemoriesIn the cool ethereal light of the full moon standing under the brightly colored oak trees my mind wanders off to the days of long ago. As the river gently rushes past I can hear the ancient chants of my ancestors rise from the mists and my mind wanders off to those old campfire stories. I get lost in old memories and am gently thrust into the remembrance of the ways of my elders as I change into my buckskins,moccasins and brightly feathered head band. Under the beautiful pristine light of the moon I prepare my campfire and begin to hum the old songs of the Navajo and start to dance upon the leaf covered forest floor paying homage to my long lost past. Donavon Scott Vinson Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
|
|
| |||||||||||||||||||
|