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Array ( [sid] => 31192 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => no title [time] => 2004-01-09 17:12:37 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Along a dusty country road
running between lines of old oaks
the dust gets into my sandles
flirting between my toes.

Off in the distance the lonesome cry
of the train rounding the bend
how things have changed over the years
an old house or two still stand.

Walk around the grassy banks
of the lake where we used to play
swimming in the crytal waters
to cure a summers hot lazy day.

Old tire swing still hangs in the tree
rope worn from weathered years
its as if we are still swinging there
yet today there is a ghost on that swing in the wind.

Once in awhile I think I hear
echos of voices on the wind
looking round I know its not so
its only the call of the breeze in the trees.

The bridge across the river
is now tattered and worn
wont see a person driving across it now
on a horses nor in a car.

Houses that used to be grand as can be
with music and laughter filling their walls
now lonely old and bare
sadly the lonesome dove calls.



[comments] => 3 [counter] => 154 [topic] => 43 [informant] => lonesomerose [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
no title

Contributed by lonesomerose on Friday, 9th January 2004 @ 05:12:37 PM in AEST
Topic: oops



Along a dusty country road
running between lines of old oaks
the dust gets into my sandles
flirting between my toes.

Off in the distance the lonesome cry
of the train rounding the bend
how things have changed over the years
an old house or two still stand.

Walk around the grassy banks
of the lake where we used to play
swimming in the crytal waters
to cure a summers hot lazy day.

Old tire swing still hangs in the tree
rope worn from weathered years
its as if we are still swinging there
yet today there is a ghost on that swing in the wind.

Once in awhile I think I hear
echos of voices on the wind
looking round I know its not so
its only the call of the breeze in the trees.

The bridge across the river
is now tattered and worn
wont see a person driving across it now
on a horses nor in a car.

Houses that used to be grand as can be
with music and laughter filling their walls
now lonely old and bare
sadly the lonesome dove calls.







Copyright © lonesomerose ... [ 2004-01-09 17:12:37]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: no title (User Rating: 1 )
by DreamWeaver on Friday, 9th January 2004 @ 05:19:50 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
A lovely poem with nice images and a touch of sadness ... great write ... Jan


Re: no title (User Rating: 1 )
by Cobalt on Wednesday, 14th January 2004 @ 03:56:31 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
This sorta reminded me of a country song. I really liked it.


Re: no title (User Rating: 1 )
by ljtpc on Sunday, 16th December 2007 @ 11:30:27 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Very nice. Your poem reminds me of dust. The repetition of words is ingenious!




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