Your Poetry Dot Com - End of an Age.

This day
is the end of an age.

I can hear the pen moving
across the page
finishing the passages
written so boldly before.

This day
is the end of an age.

And it passed too quickly
for us to carve a kingdom,
though each morning
we hailed the new sun,
then turned
our faces to the West,
where the sea of hearts
once was.

And through the pipers
of a sad dream
we would still go there
and the stones still stood
on the old hills
like teeth,
and the mist still slid
over the mountain.

We never said
our farewell words to the sun,
for they were written
before our time
and were colder than death.

But this day
is the time of the Words.

And this day
is the end of an age.

Š MMV ADL

This poem is Copyright ÂŠ fionndruinne