In the Dark

Remember the long ago when we lay together
In a pain of tenderness and counted
Our dreams: long summer afternoons
When the whistling-thrush released
A deep sweet secret on the trembling air;
Blackbird on the wing, bird of the forest shadows,
Black rose in the long ago summer,
This was your song:
It isn’t time that’s passing by,
It is you and I.

by Ruskin Bond (b. 1934)

This entry was posted on June 23, 2017 at 2:07 pm and is filed under Poetry with tags It isn't time that's passing, Poetry, Ruskin Bond. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.