I stand in quiet by the stream, <br />and wait for a key. <br />Either I was left behind or I <br />left something close; <br /> <br />a part of my life doesn't move. <br />There's a loss as if all <br />of history has been replayed <br />in the dramas lived here. <br /> <br />These horses don't know me, <br />and the epoch is new. <br />The fields are fields, the silver <br />air no truer than anything else.<br /><br />Zorika Petic<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-visit/
