Tell Me a Story By EDWIN FLORES, www.PoetryPoem.com/poetry2231 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
The young now aged short of fine wine
Sit by window sifting through time
The sands of then, what use to be
The grains held to and in believed
Then where love was pure of heart
No gifts but one, to one impart
A sentiment of great proportion
As love should be of all emotions
Their chair rocking of era theirs
Engaging time and picture bares
Proof of them, him or her
In worn photo of things that were
Yet in recluse it's still as if
They feel presence of softer gifts
Love placing bond by engaged lips
Then their world was much complete
No need for food, but dreams to keep
Alive they were not nearing death
Alive holding to what is left
In hands that quiver now of then
In heart feeling now and again
They close their eyes and tell their tales
Of love, of life, and winds in their sail
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Tell Me a Story
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