The cord of life is broken <br />by a mistermeanered fact. <br />Dark clouds of heaven, <br />curtain the sunshine back, <br />vigilance is nowhere, <br />yet everywhere unseen. <br />Eyes search for guidance, <br />to explain things they’ve seen. <br /> <br />Flowers of the autumn <br />petals faded begin to fall, <br />like hearts of parted lovers, <br />hurt by the parting call. <br />Reasons for such pain, <br />remains a mystery, <br />we seek to explain, <br />but never the joys of meeting again. <br /> <br />Lingering shadows from a staircase <br />where discarded dreams mount, <br />endless hours of searches <br />for the youth gaining fount. <br />Lines of every ceasing age <br />tarnish the daily page, <br />as we wonder <br />if it will ever be read.<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-daily-page/
