Not Forgotten, Not Yet

Winds whisper half-forgotten
songs as I imagine, in
another tongue from minds long ago.

While the melody most sweet,
the lyrics point to bitter times
which echo through and only
around my core.

What is this empty pain
without a name which
I continue to feel?

These footsteps from
another day follow me
still.

And yet I cannot not
name the echoing pain
after all this time, through
countless years.

The skies a most grey,
noteworthy to none except to those
who have never lived three days
without rain.

Grasses stir.
The people move.
And yet I stay. Carried only
by the wind, my mind overshadows
the sun too and leaves little
room for its rays.

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