November falls... <br />We walk through endless eras of gray leaves. <br />The mood, exhilarating to mind touch, <br />Is painting us on white panes of the air. <br /> <br />Wind plays its harp. <br />Life is a Psalm compelling, bittersweet. <br />Time holds us only by a whisper here. <br />Old glamour is as western as the sun. <br /> <br />You take my hand, <br />And tell me stories of a thousand dusks. <br />Your words light all the windows of my house. <br />Soul music, Friend, creates eternal sound. <br /> <br /> <br />For my November friend, Rajaram Ramachandran<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wind-harp/
